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LAURA BRAYTON 


CHAPTER I. 

ENOCH SHARP. 

“Why do you want me to marry the girl? she has 
no liking for me, nor I for her, or any other of her 
sex. Women aren’t in my line of business. Why 
should I marry her?” 

“ Because it is my will— the will of Enoch Sharp, 
and you, Jake Bartram, dare not disobey it!” 

The first speaker was a tall, stoutly-built man, 
with a rough, unprepossessing face, a man not yet 
thirty years of age, but with a hardened, crime- 
worn look. 

The second was rather under-sized, lame, and 
with one of those keen, malicious faces, which 
indicate £ character naturally devilish, if one may 
use the term. 

The first was standing, the second sat by a table 


6 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


covered with law books, bundles of papers, and 
blank legal forms. Dusty bookcases around the 
room were filled with large law volumes, and the 
furniture of the room, old and worn, was such as 
you generally see in old law offices. And this was 
the office of Enoch Sharp, attorney and counselor, 
as a sign on the half-closed window shutter gave 
token. 

“Dare not? Mr. Sharp, you are about the only 
man on earth that would say that much to me 
without getting a broken head for his trouble.” 

“Bah, Jake Bartram, bah! I know you, and you 
know me. Ten words from me would put a rope 
around your neck!” 

“Yes! And knowing your power over me, you’ll 
use it till I die !” 

“ To be sure I will ! What is the use of power to 
one who will not use it. Where I will that you 
should go, there will you be found ; what I will that 
you should do, that will be done. If you hesitate, 
or refuse, you swing! Is that a comfortable 
thought?” 

The little snake-like eyes of the lawyer glittered 
like the sparkling orbs in the head of a vicious 
snake as he uttered these words in a sneering tone. 

“No, it is not comfortable, and I don’t want it 
thrust upon me too often. I often feel, Enoch 
„ Sharp, as if I ought to choke you to death. It 
would be one good deed to stand against a hundred 
bad ones. If I am ever to hang for what I’ve done, 


LAURA BBAYTON. 


7 


I hope I'll have a chance at you before my hands 
are tied.” 

“You do — you do? Yet you daren’t raise your 
smallest finger to harm me. Big as you are, with 
power enough to crush me with one blow from your 
great fist, you tremble while I laugh at you and 
your weak threats.” 

“I know it. I know it!” said Bartram, in a low, 
sullen tone. “But enough of that. You say I must 
marry this girl. Who is she — what is she?” 

“I seldom reply to impertinent questions. In this 
case I will. She thinks that she is an orphan, and 
that I am her legal guardian. She is not the first, 
nor am I the other.” 

“Yet she lives in your house, is, in truth, but a 
menial, laboring without wages. I pity the poor 
girl.” 

“Do you? You’re getting on famously. Pity is 
akin to love. You may. love her by the time the 
marriage knot is tied, after all. She is pretty, isn’t 
she?” 

“I hardly remember. I’ve never seen her but 
once or twice since 

“ Hush, you should be the last to even hint at the 
first time you saw her. But you shall see how she 
looks now.” 

The lame lawyer arose, and with a step which 
showed one leg to be shorter than the other, hopped, 
rather than walked across the room, and pulled a 
bell-cord. 


8 


LAURA BRATTON. 


A few moments after the door of the room 
opened, and a very pale, yet strangely beautiful 
face, with great, wild, black eyes, looked in, and in 
a voice low and sweet as the soft tones of a flute, 
said: 

“What do you wish for, sir?” 

“Come in here, Laura, I want to speak to you.” 

Timidly, with a strange, startled look at the man 
whom Sharp had called Jake Bartram, the owner 
of the singularly handsome face entered the room, 
exhibiting a form which was a model of grace, 
though rather thin in contour, and clad in very 
plain, almost common, garments. She seemed to 
be young — not over seventeen or eighteen, yet her 
face looked already care-worn. In expression it was 
a thoughtful, intellectual face, with a tinge of 
touching sadness on it which would have interested 
any person of a sympathetic nature. 

“You have seen this gentleman before, Laura?” 
said the lawyer. 

“Yes, sir, I have not forgotten it,” said the young 
girl, glancing with a cold, distrustful look at Bar- 
tram. 

“You will see him frequently hereafter. It is my 
desire that you receive him kindly as my friend.” 

“Is that all you wish of me, sir?” 

“Yes, for the present. You will know more 
anon.” 

The young girl made no reply, but glided out of 


LAURA BRATTON, 


9 


the room as if a longer stay there were repugnant 
to her feelings. 

“ I can’t see why you should wish me to marry 
her. She shuddered while she looked at me,” said 
Bartram. 

“ The why is nothing to you. That it is my wish 
is enough,” said Sharp, sternly. “My plans and my 
secrets are my own. When you marry her you will 
have twenty thousand dollars to risk and lose at 
the gambling-table, where you sacrifice all you ever 
can raise.” 

“ Whose money? She is poor, you say.” 

“ That depends on me. She might be as rich as 
the wealthiest in the land, or she might be as I have 
told you, poor.” 

“You wish me to marry her— you might at least 
tell me who and what she is. I am not much, I 
know, but I have some pride left.” 

“Yes, enough and more than enough for its 
slender foundation,” said Sharp, sneeringly. 

“Mr. Walter Withers is cornin’ up the street, 
headin’ this way, sir,” cried a tall, lean, shock- 
haired man, dressed in a suit of seedy-looking 
black, with a dirty-looking cravat bundled about 
his long, slender neck, coming in unbidden, as if he 
belonged there. 

“Very well, go down to your copying-room, 
Nathan, and take Bartram— this man here— with 
you, I have more to say to him when Mr. Withers 
has gone.” 


10 


LAURA BRATTON. 


The man turned, and followed by Bartram, left 
the room. 

As soon as he was alone the lawyer drew some 
paper before him, and at once commenced writing 
as if he were in great haste. A minute or two 
afterward there was a knock at the door. 

“Enter!” said Sharp, and he kept on writing, 
without raising his eyes, although the steps of a 
person approaching his table were plainly heard. 
“Nathan,” said the lawyer, not raising his head 
yet, “ I wish you would see to that order of Panama 
stock to-day; it is on the rise, and we must pur- 
chase at once or Why, Mr. Withers, I beg your 

pardon ; I thought it was that lazy clerk of mine, 
Nathan Sloth, that came in. Take a seat, sir — take 
a seat.” 

And with his usual hopping step the misshapen 
lawyer sprang to place a chair for his visitor. 

The latter was quite an elderly man, a gentleman, 
evidently, by his dress and appearance. His face 
was very grave in its expression, bordering on 
melancholy. 

“What can I do for you to-day, Mr. Withers?” 
asked the lawyer, in an obsequious tone, remaining 
on his feet and moving about restlessly after his 
visitor was seated. 

“I’ve come to have my will written, Sharp,” said 
the gentleman, nervously. “You’ve done the law 
business of our family for so many years that it 
would hardly seem right to employ any other.” 


LAUBA BBAYTON. 


11 


“ A will? Why, Mr. Withers, you’ve a long lease 
of life before you yet, I’m sure. I never saw you 
looking better.” 

And the lawyer moved nervously around to a 
front view of his visitor. 

“I don’t know. I’m not superstitious, Sharp, but 
I’ve had a warning that my time is not to be long 
on this earth,” said the old gentleman, in a serious 
tone. 

“A warning, sir? Something supernatural, sir?” 
and the lawyer shifted to another position, yet 
fronting his visitor. 

“Yes, I had a fearful dream last night. I thought 
I saw my brother, and he told me that I must join 
him in the spirit-land. He was alone there, he 
said.” 

“Alone? Where were his wife and child, who, 
undoubtedly, perished before he did, if, indeed, he 
is dead !” 

“ Of that, or rather of them, nothing came in my 
dream. But my vision of him was so perfect that 
it seems even yet as if he stood before me.” 

“I have never* believed in dreams,” said Sharp, 
slightly nervous. “ But if you wish your will drawn 
up, I would rather my man, Nathan Sloth, would do 
it. He is correct in figures, and writes a fair hand 
for a young man.” 

“Young? Why, he looks to be forty, or more.” 

“Yet he is not thirty. He is one of those preco- 
cious ones with old heads on young shoulders, who 


12 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


never knew boyhood. Nathan is an anomaly, Mr. 
Withers— a different make-up from anything else 
human that travels.” 

“Yet I would rather that you alone drew up my 
will, Mr. Sharp. You have always been a repository 
for our family secrets.” 

“Some of them, Mr. Withers — some of them.” 

“And my poor brother, in his youth, thought a 
great deal of you.” 

“Yes, yes, enough to take away the only gleam 
of sunshine that ever fell across the path of a 
crooked, deformed, miserable man like me,” cried 
Sharp, with an instantaneous flash of anger in look 
and tone. “ Enough to step, with his splendid form 
and winning face, his smooth tongue and princely 
fortune, between me and the only being on earth 
that I ever loved !” 

“Really, Mr. Sharp, I had no idea of bringing up 
an unpleasant memory ; indeed I had forgotten that 
you ever looked up to Anna Lonsdale with an eye 
of affection.” 

“Enough, Mr. Withers— enough ! I have not for- 
gotten that she looked down on me who worshiped 
her more than miser ever worshiped gold, than 
Christian ever worshiped God ! Forget? I am not 
one of the forgetting kind.” 

“Yet you were forgiving. For I remember well 
seeing you with a smile on your face at old Trinity 
when they were married.” 

“Yes, I smiled then, and I smiled afterward, Mr. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


13 


Withers. I smiled when he came to my office and 
told me a child, a sweet baby girl, was born to him 
and her. I smiled when he told me her health was 
declining, and her physician said she must go to 
Cuba for her health. I smiled when he told me 
what ship she was going in, for I knew the captain 
well — well, Mr. Withers. I smiled when he told me 
that he could not leave his business to go with her, 
and would follow two months later. I smiled when 
I shook hands with her and kissed the baby on 
board the ship, and I smiled when I told Ben Hawk 
to take good care of them, for they were precious — 
in the eyes of your brother. And three weeks after 
I smiled — yes, Mr. Withers, I smiled — when I car- 
ried the news to your brother that the ship had 
gone to pieces on Carysfort Reef below Cape 
Florida, and only the captain and one of the crew 
had been saved. You were in Europe then. Ha ! 
ha! When he saw the Savannah paper that con- 
tained the account, Mr. Withers, he dropped as if 
he had been shot through the heart.” 

The voice of the lawyer had risen tone by tone 
almost into a shriek as he continued, and his look 
was now almost fiendish. 

“It did break his heart. It sent him out a wan- 
derer over the face of the earth, to perish in some 
far-off land, or he never has returned to his home 
or me, and he must be dead!” said Mr. Withers, 
mournfully. “But, Mr. Sharp, I never knew that 
you found pleasure in his misery, you who were so 


14 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


careful of his property and mine, so just in every 
account.” 

“ I was just in my business. But should I grieve 
that sorrow came to him who had filled my life with 
an everlasting wretchedness?” 

“Why did not I know of this before? Mr. Sharp, 
I have always trusted in your friendship, in your 
devotion to me and my interests!” 

“Well, did I ever deceive you?” 

“No, I cannot say that. But I have always 
thought that you loved my poor brother. You have 
striven to increase our mutual fortunes, you have 
told me how rich we would be if he ever came 
back, what an immense fortune mine would be if 
united to his.” 

“ That is true. I never envied him his fortune. 
He won away my heart’s idol. Ought I to have 
loved him for that?” 

And the small, sharp eyes of the deformed lawyer 
gleamed like fiery jewels in their deep-set sockets, 
as he looked, even more than he spoke, the hate 
which had so long burned like embers in ashes, 
within his heart. 

“No, I suppose it would not be human nature to 
do that! But, Mr. Sharp, we should forgive the 
dead!” 

“Yes, when we know them to be dead.” 

“Then you believe that my brother is yet alive?” 

“I did not say so. They say the Jew yet lives 
who mocked the Saviour on his way to Calvary, but 


LAURA BRATTON. 


15 


I do not know it, though I have seen many a wan- 
dering Jew in my lif e-time.” 

“No, no, my brother is not alive. If he were he 
would return to the home where once we were both 
so happy together. I know I saw his spirit in my 
dreams. I felt in it a warning that I should soon 
meet him in the better land. I wanted to do what 
I have not done while I hoped he might return — 
make my will. I came for that purpose to you, but 
now I will defer it. You do not speak like the 
friend, to us, that I always supposed you to be !” 

“Bah! Nonsense. I get wild sometimes, when I 
think of the past, Mr. Withers, and feel, I scarcely 
know how, when it is over. That I have been your 
friend, and his too, the care which I have taken of 
your mutual interests is proof. But if you wish to 
desert me now — go ahead ! It is but the way of the 
world. Gratitude for faithful services is not a fact, 
it is only an idle name !” 

“You are wrong, Mr. Sharp, you are wrong. I 
will come again when we both feel calmer and 
pleasanter than we do just now. Good-day.” 

And the stately old gentleman bowed courteously, 
and went away. 

“So much for Walter Withers! He knows now 
that Enoch Sharp has suffered, but he does not 
know that he has lived for, and is living for, re- 
venge. Oh, if he knew all that I know-all — all!” 

And the lawyer laughed ; a hollow, wild, fiendish 


16 


LAURA BRATTON. 


laugh it was, as he touched an office bell on his 
table. 

It was answered by Nathan Sloth, his gray eyes 
inquiring, rather than his lips, what was wanted. 

“Did old Withers look into the copying-room as 
he came in?” asked Sharp. 

“No, I stood by the door and told him, when he 
asked, that you were in the office.” 

“Then he did not see Bartram?” 

“No. The door was closed.” 

“Nor did Bartram see him?” 

“No, I had a bottle of brandy on the table. He 
never could see anything else when it was before 

him.” 

“Very well, send him back to me now. I have 
not done with him yet.” 

Nathan turned and vanished, closing the door 
behind him as he went. 


LAURA BRATTON. 


17 


CHAPTER II. 

NATHAN SLOTH. 

The copying-room, as Enoch Sharp called the little 
anteroom off the hall which led to the main office, 
was the room where his clerk and man of all work, 
Nathan Sloth, worked and slept, as a large writing- 
table, covered with paper, ink-stand, pens, etc., 
indicated, as also a cot-bed in one corner, and a 
wash-stand with a tin wash-basin on it, and a 
brown-stone jug for water beneath it. 

That he did something here besides writing was 
also evident, for a black bottle and two dirty tum- 
blers in front of a well-used pack of cards, told as 
much, as they occupied one corner of the table. 

The man Bartram sat before the cards, carelessly 
tumbling them about, when Nathan Sloth came 
back from the office of his master. 

“Well, can we finish our game now?” said Bar- 
tram, impatiently, as the other came back. “I’m 
two to your three, remember.” 

“No more game just now. Old Sharp wants you, 
and hi£ mad is up, since Mr. Withers went in. 
Don’t wait a second when he is in his tantrums. 
Perhaps you may, for you’re big and strong, and 
have got grit, maybe. But he’d fling the poker, 


18 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


shovel, tongs, and all at my head if I didn’t jump 
when he calls. You’d better hurry.” 

“Nary time till I’ve had another nip,” said Bar- 
tram, and he poured out a tumblerful of brandy 
and drank it . 

“I don’t blame you, old chap,” said Nathan. 
“You’ll need it all afore you get done with him 
to-day. I never saw him look uglier.” 

“Well, I’ll go and see if I can’t tame him down a 
bit,” said Bartram, with an ugly scowl on his dark 
face. “And remember, old ’un, our game isn’t 
finished. I’m two to your three, and it’s my deal.” 

“Old ’un ! I’d like to know where he finds young 
’uns?” said Nathan, parenthetically, as Bartram 
left the room. “ I wonder what raised Beelzebub 
in the old man this morning? He was as pleasant 
as a basket of chips when I saw him first. He even 
tried his old saws — ‘Nathan,’ said he, ‘some think a 
rose would smell just as sweet if ’twas called an 
onion, but I don’t. Names should be synonymous 
with character. In some cases “made and pro- 
vided,” as the statoots say they are. I’m Sharp by 
name and sharp by nature. You’re slow by nature 
and Sloth by name — excepting, for exceptions are 
always useful, and good, too, if they’re sustained- 
excepting when there’s play for your knife and 
fork, or you’re to have a holiday when you’ve got 
so much work done. Then you forget your name 
and general habits, too.’ Well, the old covey was 
right. I can be fast or I can be slow. But that 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


19 


chap called me ‘old ’un,’ and here I am not five- 
ancT-twenty yet. I’m not old, but I’m dryin’ up. I 
feel tliafc. I wonder if Miss Laura thinks so? I’d 
like to make up to her ; she is too proud for the 
likes of me, much as he tries to keep her down 
and break her spirit. There’s more in her char- 
acter than even he knows, sharp as he is. I've 
heard her say, more than once, that she’d rise to a 
higher and better sphere in spite of him. She 
will, poor girl, but not till she dies. That’s my 
opinion, and no charge for it neither. I wonder if 
I’ll ever rise to a p’int where I can charge for an 
opinion. I will if I can, for everything is on the rise 
that can rise — bread, bubbles, baubles, and why 
not a poor devil of a lawyer’s clerk. There goes 
his bell. I wonder what he wants now !” 


20 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


CHAPTER III. 

SHADOWED. 

When Jake Bartram left the office of Enoch 
Sharp, walking slowly and thoughtfully along the 
street, he did not notice that a person who saw him 
come out, followed him on the opposite side of the 
street, keeping in view of him all the time, turning 
the same corners that he did, and after him, enter- 
ing a low porter-house near the “Basin,” where he 
seemed to be acquainted, for, nodding to the bar- 
keeper as he passed into a back room used for 
dominos, cards, etc., he said: 

“Jim, make me a brandy-sour, and have it hot.” 

This person seemed to be a seafaring man by his 
dress and the hard-weather look of his mahogany- 
colored face. Elderly, too, for his long hair was a 
grizzly gray, his beard, of may be a week’s growth, 
stood out like white bristles on his face. A singular 
scar, dividing his upper lip on the right side and 
extending well up on the cheek, did not add to the 
attractiveness of his looks. “ Public — that room in 
there?” asked this man, pointing to the open door 
of the back room. 

“Yes, when folks order anything, and want to 
study the books of four kings, or handle the 
dominos.” 


LAURA BRAYTOX. 


21 


“Make me a hot punch, then, and bring it in— hot 
and strong, mate; let the foundation be Jamaica, 
and fill it with Cognac. Take your change out of 
that. ” 

And the stranger carelessly tossed down a bank- 
bill, as if there were more where that came from. 

Entering the room he sat down by a table a yard 
or two distant from that at which Bartram had 
taken a seat, moodily waiting for the drink that he 
had ordered. 

Soon the barkeeper had placed two steaming 
mugs before the two men. 

Seeing by a glance of his eye that Bartram 
noticed his presence, the stranger, lifting his mug 
to his lips, said : 

“Here’s a health to ye, mate. I’m not in the 
habit of drinking alone, but where one knows no- 
body, and nobody knows one, why it can’t be 
helped. It is a good while since I dropped anchor 
in Baltimore waters.” 

“Been on a long cruise — more’n one, may be,” 
said Bartram, trying to look civil, as the other 
spoke in a friendly tone. 

“You may well say that, mate,” said the other. 
“But I’m goin’ to stay ashore a bit. My locker is 
pretty well supplied, and I’ve had all I want of 
roving for awhile. Besides, I’ve some law business 
to attend to. Am estate has to be settled in which 
I have a right to some rich pickings.” 

“That’s encouraging,” said Bartram, now quite 


22 


LAURA BRATTON. 


willing to make the acquaintance of this stranger 
who had “ rich pickings’- in view. 

“It would be more so if I knew a good lawyer 
who would see me get my rights,” said the stranger, 
moving his seat and his mug up to the table where 
Bartram was seated. 

“I know a lawyer who is just as smart as a 
shovel-nosed shark in. a bathing party,” said Bar- 
tram. 

“Is he rich enough to get along without stealing? 
Can he afford to be honest?” asked the other. 

“ He could afford it, but I doubt his knowing how 
if he tried. Everybody knows Enoch Sharp to be a 
rascal, rich, ugly and devilish in shape and in name. 
But he is keen; wins every case he takes.” 

“Enoch Sharp! A good name for a lawyer — a 
keen one, you say? Have another mug of drink, 
mate — I see yours is out. Here, barkeeper, fill our 
mugs and bring cigars. D’ye ever handle the 
ivory?” 

And the stranger pointed to the dominos. 

“Yes; I play now and then. Have a game?” re- 
plied Bartram. 

“I don’t care; it'll speed time maybe.” 

For an hour or more the two played and drank, 
and by that time the hinges of Bartram’s talking 
apparatus were well oiled and he, without knowing 
that he was being “pumped,” to use an old police 
phrase, was glibly telling all he knew about Sharp 
and his wishes that he should marry Laura 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


23 


Brayton, his reputed ward. He had no thought that 
what he was telling so willingly had been cunningly 
led out by queries from the stranger. The latter lost 
every game, and paid for all the liquor without 
grumbling ; that was enough to satisfy him, and if 
the liquor did not capsize him, Bartram was willing 
to sit there and play and drink all day, and all 
night, too. But his head was weaker than his will, 
and after awhile he began to grow drowsy, and at 
last he fell asleep in his chair, with his head resting 
on the table among the dominos. 

Then the stranger, who had given his name as 
Engilkee, arose from his chair, and settling up his 
score, left the house as quietly as he had entered it. 
With all the information which he had got from 
Bartram, he was exceedingly careful not to give 
much information regarding himself. 


24 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


CHAPTER IV. 

“LUKE WITHERS LIVES AND I AM LOST!” 

That same night, the lame lawyer sat in his 
easy-chair in his office, apparently studying the 
flickering, changing figures made by the blaze of 
a Cumberland coal fire in his grate. He seemed to 
be lost in speculative thought, and a shadow of 
annoyance darkened his face when the door opened 
and Nathan Sloth said : 

“ ’Ere’s a letter, sir, that was left a minute ago by 
a sailor-lookin’ chap, who said you’d answer it at 
your leisure.” 

“ Ay, and read it in the same way. It is time you 
were abed, man, so you can get up some time before 
noon to-morrow.” 

And Sharp took the letter. Nathan retired with- 
out any further words, and Sharp was about to toss 
the letter on the table, when he saw in one corner 
of it these words : 

“For immediate notice.” 

“I’ll see who it is from, though I am done with 
business for this day,” he muttered, and he opened 
it. 

But from the instant that his eye marked the 
first line, he did not look up or pause until every 
word was read. And then, trembling from mingled 


LAURA hsiAYTON. 


25 


anger and excitement, he hurried to the table and 
rang his office-bell violently. 

Nathan came in a minute or less, his bare feet 
and lack of coat and vest proclaiming that he had 
been getting ready for bed when he was called. 

“Which way did the man go who left the note?” 
cried Sharp. “ Speak quick ! . Dead or alive, he must 
be found, and that in a hurry, too!” 

“Lord! sir, I don’t know which way he went. He 
rang the bell, and when I opened the door, popped 
the note in my hand, said what I told you, and then 
popped off the steps into the darkness out of sight.” 

“Would you know him again?” 

“Yes, I saw his face; for he had a long, red scar 
over his right cheek that left his upper lip wide 
open. That was all I saw, only he had gray hair, 
and looked as if he hadn’t been shaved in a week or 
two.” 

“ A red scar almost the whole length of his right 
cheek?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And tall — over six feet high?” 

“Yes, sir; he looked rather tall. But he popped 
off too quick to give me a chance to notice much of 
him.” 

“Then pop on the rest of your clothes, and pop 
yourself off after him, and don’t let me see your 
face again till you know where he is to be found.” 

“But, Mr. Sharp, it is late, and ” 

“And what, you lazy scoundrel? What excuse 


26 


LAURA BllAYTQN. 


have you for questioning my will, or hesitating an 
instant to obey my orders?” 

None but this. If I've got to hunt all over town 
after him, I want money to buy a drink with when 
I go into porter-houses to look for him.” 

“There, take that! If you get drunk, I’ll have 
you in jail for robbing me. Now begone !” 

“What shall I do, sir, if I find him?” 

“Come and let me know instantly where he is. 
He must not know that you are on his track.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And keep the matter to yourself, d’ye hear?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Especially from Laura Brayton.” 

“Lord! sir, I never talk to her. She is too upper- 
crust for the likes of me.” 

“Well, well, begone! Do your duty, and I’ll give 
you ” 

“What, sir?” asked Nathan, eagerly, as the 
lawyer paused before he specified his intentions 
in full. 

“A holiday!” said the lawyer, as he pushed 
Nathan out and closed the door. 

“Can it be possible that Ben Hawk is yet alive? 
I paid the price of a dozen lives to have him put out 
of the way. He was reported shot dead in a gam- 
bling quarrel at New Orleans, and I have a certifi- 
cate of his burial in my safe. He is my enemy 
to the death, if he yet lives. And no one else 
could write such a letter; and no one else dare 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


27 


make such threats. Yet another shares his secret, 
for a female hand is plain in the writing. Tall, 
with a scar down his right cheek, severing his 
upper lip — that is his description. I must read that 
letter again.” 

And Enoch Sharp, after this soliloquy, went to 
the light and re-perused the letter aloud. It was 
couched in these words : 

“Enoch Sharp: — Keen as you are, well-laid as 
are your plans for revenge and to amass the wealth 
of others, beware ! An avenger, sure, and yet un- 
seen, is on your own track. Beware ! The wealth 
you would make your own will yet reach the right- 
ful heir, and all your machinations will result in 
your own destruction. Those live whom you have 
deemed dead. The daggeryou sharpened will pierce 
your own heart. Sleep, if you can! You will awake, 
when even dreams do not warn you, to hear the 
clank of chains, and feel the iron on your mis- 
shapen form. Harm not her whom you call Laura 
Bray ton, or the sword will descend which hangs 
over your bead by only a single thread. Again, be- 
ware! — beware of him who was dead, but is alive!” 

This was all, and the face of Enoch Sharp paled 
and flushed with alternate emotions of fear and 
anger, as he looked upon the letter. It was written 
in a beautifully clear and legible hand, but the 
delicacy of the characters betrayed the sex of the 
writer. 

“ Ten thousand dollars would I give to have him 
who dictated and her who wrote that letter in my 
power for a single hour!” he gasped, as he crushed 
the paper in his nervous hand. 


28 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“Fiend!” hissed a voice so close to him that he 
sprang from the spot as if he had been bitten by a 
serpent. 

“There is some one here in this room !” he gasped, 
trembling from head to foot. “Yet lean see no 
one. Oh, can the spirits of the dead come back — 
can they speak?” 

“Ha, ha, ha!” 

The room seemed filled with hollow peals of 
mocking laughter. The lawyer glared wildly about 
him for an instant, his face all distorted with fear, 
then he glanced up at a portrait on the wall. It 
was that of a young man with a college cap upon 
his head and a college gown upon his form. 

“It moves! it lives! Luke Withers lives — lives! 
and I am lost!” 

And, with a wild scream, he tottered and fell to 
the floor senseless. 

The next minute, bearing a lamp in her hand, 
Laura Bray ton hurried into the room. 

“I heard a cry of distress!” she exclaimed. “I 
am sure it was here.” 

Then, as her eyes fell on the form of the lawyer 
extended on the floor, she started back frightened, 
but, recovering her presence of mind, she stepped 
forward, bent over him, and, seeing that he 
breathed, put down her lamp and hurried away 
after water. 

When she got back he was sitting up, his senses 
once more his own. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


25 

“Go — go, Laura, and leave me alone. I was 
dozing and had a terrible dream, and I believe I 
fainted and fell. Go ; I shall be better presently, 
child.” 

“You look very sick, sir. May I not have a phy- 
sician sent to you?” 

“No, no, child, physicians cost money. I will get 
well without one. Never mind me — go to your sew- 
ing, embroidery, or whatever you are doing. I will 
be all right soon.” 

The young girl took up her lamp and went slowly 
out. 

“Why should she, of all others, be the first to 
come to my aid?” he muttered. “Kindness from 
those we have wronged js the refinement of 
cruelty. I am weak, weak. A villain should be 
strong always. No terror, though it racked his 
very soul, should make him play the coward’s part. 
I would not believe all — no, nor half that I have 
read and heard, had not my presence of mind [fled 
and left me with but a child’s courage. I will 
arouse myself and defy the worst. Spirits cannot 
harm me, even though I hear their mockeries.” 

Again the hollow peals of mocking laughter rolled 
through the room, and, despite his resolution to be 
brave, the lawyer fled in dismay. 


30 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


CHAPTER V. 

“THE MONSTER WILL SOON BE AT BAY.” 

Not quite so old as he, very pale, in features, very 
handsome, dignified, and decidedly aristocratic, the 
lady who met the man who had “pumped out” 
Jake Bartram at the porter-house near the Basin, 
did not seem in any way connected with him. She 
met him in the private parlor of an unpretending, 
but very home-like and comfortable hotel on West 
Baltimore street, shortly after he had gained all he 
could from Bartram and left him in his drunken 
sleep. 

“Well, captain, have you news for me?” she asked 
of the man with the red scar on his cheek. 

“A good deal, madam. We have got the old 
scoundrel in a corner.” 

“Did you see her?” asked the lady, anxiously, not 
deeming it necessary to name to him the one she 
meant. 

“No, madam, but I saw one who had seen her not 
an hour before I saw him, who declared her well 
and prettier than an angel. He was not disinter- 
ested in his praises, for he was the individual whom 
this wretch Sharp has picked out for a husband for 
her.” 

“Consulting her wishes?” 


LAVE A BRAYTON. 


31 


“ Of course not, madam. He never consults any- 
body’s wishes but his own. In this case he does not 
consult the desires of either party, but has some 
devilish plot of his own to carry out.” 

“ Which we will foil, all in good time. And now, 
my friend, to aid us in our good work and you par- 
ticularly, you must know the secrets of the house in 
which he lives. Built just before the Revolution, 
when the patriot builder knew such things might 
be useful, it contains several secret means of ingress 
and egress— secret passages and vaults, and two 
small rooms — which no one at present living in it, 
probably, knows of. Take this diagram of the 
house to your room and carefully study it. W^hen 
you have got the plan fully in your mind, it will be 
easy for you to go in and come out when you 
please. This will be necessary, not only to thwart 
him in his evil designs, but also in my design of 
fearfull-y punishing him for my years of suffering 
and agony. Take it now and see if you can under- 
stand it. Then visit the house, and if you find cer- 
tain articles of furniture which are here described 
in the hidden rooms, I will know that no one living 
besides myself has been there for years or knows 
the secret. Then I can safely go there, where I can 
be ever near to aid her in the hour of trouble when 
it comes.” 

The man bowed, and taking up the drawing, left 
the room. 

“The monster will soon be at bay,” the lady mur- 


32 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


mured. “ I will weave a net-work of terror around 
his sinful soul which will make his life as wretched 
as mine has been for years. He shall know what 
misery is. His wealth shall vanish from his grasp. 
He shall taste the bitter dregs of the cup of poverty ; 
he shall see that money alone has made men asso- 
ciate with one so hideous. I have suffered long, 
but my time of triumph is at hand. Thank Heaven 
she yet lives, pure and uncontaminated, little 
dreaming in her shadowy life that for her there is 
light in store which will illuminate even the dark 
past. But I have much to do. I must write to a 
lawyer, one of the first in our land, and have his 
aid in some matters beyond my compass.” 


LAU11A BHAYTON. 


33 


CHAPTER VI. 

TO THE RESCUE. 

It was a very old-fashioned house in which Enoch 
Sharp lived, from its gable, odd shape, and unpre- 
tending height, standing as it did among more 
modern and fashionable dwellings, often attracted 
the notice of strangers, who, in passing, would 
pause to observe its quaint architecture, perhaps 
to wonder when it was built, and why it so differed 
from all around it. 

But a tall, gracefully-formed young man, evi- 
dently of the upper circles, who slowly passed and 
repassed that house several times at a late hour of 
the evening the same eventful day on which our 
story opens, did not seem to be one of this class of 
strangers, or to be attracted to that vicinity by mere 
curiosity. With his eyes glancing up toward a 
window, the next beneath the projecting roof tiles, 
he walked slowly a course of a few yards to and fro 
for upward of an hour without pausing. At the 
end of that time a light appeared in the room of 
which that window was the front, seen dimly 
through the curtains, but yet revealing occasional 
glimpses of a womanly form. This seemed to be 
what he had been looking for, because he stopped 


34 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


in his walk, and looking up at the lighted window, 
said, in a low tone to himself : 

“ Laura is at last through the daily labor to which 
the sordid wretch, Enoch Sharp, dooms her — free to 
pass a few hours in rest that she may gather 
strength to renew her cheerless and monotonous 
life on the morning of another day. Why she en- 
dures it is both an agony and a mystery to me. 
Why, almost acknowledging by words, as well as 
by looks and actions, that she returns my love, she 
will not let me remove her from his power and in- 
fluence, I cannot tell. He has forbidden my visits 
to her. I have urged her to become my wife. 
‘Never,’ she said, ‘will I become the wife of any 
man who is in a superior station of life until I can 
rise to the same social sphere. I feel my position, 
and I will rise above it before my fate is linked to 
that of another.’ She is pure and noble, beautiful 
and true, and deserves more than I can ever do for 
her. The pride and wealth of my parents, their 
position in an aristocratic view, are her objec- 
tions to my desires— to a man like Enoch Sharp 
they should make my attentions desirable, but the 
deformed imp, fit only for the nether world, seems 
to view me with bitter hate. But I will thwart him 
and win her, even if it be long years before I 
succeed.” 

He now whistled a few clear notes of an old 
Scottish melody. As he did so, the dim outlines of 
the form which had been seen moving about the 


LAURA BRATTON. ' ^ - 35 

room through the gauzy muslin curtains paused, 
and then approached the window and drew the 
curtain aside. 

Louder and clearer, but to a different melody, 
rose the notes from below, as the face and graceful 
outlines of the womanly figure were now distinctly 
seen. 

That the young man was heard and understood 
was evident, for a white handkerchief was seen to 
flutter in the air. 

At that instant the iron tongue of a bell rang out 
a loud alarm in a distant part of the city. It was 
echoed by another until all over the city clanging 
peals rolled along the murky night air. In a few 
seconds the shouts of firemen through their trumpets 
followed, then the rushing of many feet and the 
thundering rattle of engines and hose-carts drawn 
furiously along. 

The young man could no longer stand there un- 
observed ; the streets, before almost deserted, were 
now full of men rushing along, and he was literally 
obliged to drift with the human torrent. 

On, along West Baltimore street, on into Calvert, 
on through street after street, keeping pace with an 
engine and a noble set of young firemen following 
with a hose-cart, ran the young man until the 
density of the throng, as well as the confusion of 
shouts and cries heard even above the crackling of 
the flames, told him they were close to the scene 
of conflagration. 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


Pressing still on, he found a large building, 
known as a tenement-house, on fire apparently 
from the basement to the roof, for the red flames 
were bursting fiercely from all the doors and lower 
windows, and just showing up at the fourth story. 

To save the house or anything in it then seemed 
to be an impossibility. 

“Are all the people out?” asked the young man of 
a stalwart fellow in a fireman’s uniform, who had 
just arrived on the ground with his coat hanging on 
his arm. 

“I don’t know, boss. All I can say is, if they’re 
not out now, they’ll never get out o’ that furnace.” 

“Great Heaven, look there!” cried the young 
man, and a groaning cry rose from men all around 
him. For they, too, saw what had drawn his excla- 
mation out ; they saw, as he did, the wild, agony- 
painted face of a woman in her white night-clothes, 
clasping a poor little babe to her breast, there at 
the topmost window. 

“Heaven help her!” groaned the young man, 
aloud. 

“ Somebody else has to take a hand in that game 
or she and the baby go under!” cried the fireman. 
“A ladder there, boys, for Sammy Glenn of old 
Twenty-two— a ladder, boys, and I’ll save the bit 
o’ muslin up there yet!” 

The shout of Sammy Glenn was heard, and rash, 
almost hopeless though the trial seemed, ladders 
were wrenched away from the truck, and in an- 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


37 


other moment up amid the smoke and flame one 
was upraised. 

Glenn sprang on its round,, but at that instant a 
brick, loosened from above by the stream from 
some engine, came down full in the hero’s face, 
casting him back, bleeding and senseless, on the 
ground. 

“He is down and she is gone— no use!” shouted 
an engineer, for the face of the horror-stricken 
woman could not now be seen at the window. 
Flames were leaping out from every window, above 
and below. Steady the ladder, men — steady it. 
Brave Sammy Glenn’s resolve shall not fall with 
him!” 

This was the cry of the young man whom we 
have followed in this chapter, as, dressed in his 
broadcloth, gloved, capped, and booted in the latest 
fashion, he sprang up the ladder. 

“Come back! come back!” shouted a hundred 
voices. “You’ll die, and do no good!” 

But on and up, the flames above, below, and all 
around him, swiftly he sprang, and soon at the 
very top of that ladder, he paused for only a second 
to see where she was, if, indeed, not already a 
burning corpse. One instant only he paused, and 
then strong men held their breath and trembled as 
they saw him leap in through the red-sheeted fire. 

Would he ever return? A minute— the roof 
seemed about to fall in— the whole house a fiery 
wreck— and many a one groaned, “He is lost!” 


38 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


No! no! not lost, for there, staggering to the 
window, with a great bundle, wrapped, it seemed, 
in blankets, all on fire, he was seen. No one 
shouted ; all appeared to hold even their breaths. 
Blinded, black with fire and smoke, he paused a 
second, as if to breathe, and then crept out through 
the fire to the ladder. Slow, fearfully slow was his 
progress, for the flames, with their red tongues, 
seemed to be licking up his very life-blood. 

“Hurry, man — hurry for your life!” shouted the 
chief-engineer through his trumpet. “ The house is 
all falling in.” 

But slowly, with his heavy burden— slowly, be- 
cause he was choked, and suffocated, and weak- 
ened, too, he had to come, and he was yet ten feet 
from the ground when roof and all went tumbling 
in with a fearful crash, and a new burst of flame 
and smoke. 

Then he let his grasp loosen from the ladder and 
sprang back from the falling wall. He did not 
reach the ground, but was caught, he and that 
blazing bundle, by strong arms, which carried him 
back from the blazing ruins into the wildly surging, 
shouting crowd. 

Tearing the blazing blankets from his blistered 
hands, the firemen unrolled them from the form of 
a woman, who, with a babe clasped to her arms, 
unconscious, yet breathing, had thus been saved 
from a terrible death. 

Smoke-blackened and scorched, the face of the 


LAURA BRATTON. 


39 


young man beamed with a proud joy as he looked 
upon those whom he had saved. 

Just then, Sammy Glenn, partially recovering 
from the terrible blow, which had nearly deprived 
him of life, was carried to the same spot. 

“You saved ’em?” he said, wonderingly, as he 
looked at the slender, genteel form of the young 
man. “You looked like a buck-dandy, but you’re 
not — you’re a man, a full man, and two to carry, by 
George ! Why, we haven’t got your beat in all our 
company. The chap that can take Sammy Glenn’s 
place on a ladder, or with the machine, can go in 
and win in any crowd that runs. If it isn’t askin’ 
too much to be put on the roll of your friends — true 
friends in ‘all sorts o’ weather,’ I wish you’d do it 
for me.” 

“You will always have a friend in me. Eldridge 
Putnam is my name,” said the young man. 

“ I’ll never forget that name. I’m about used up, 
or I’d see you home; but I reckon I’ll have to have 
help to get to my own roost.” 

“Come and see me when you are able,” said Put- 
nam, thrusting a card into the hand of Glenn. 

Then he turned to move out of the crowd. But 
the woman whom he had saved was reviving, and 
she asked, eagerly, who had saved her. For she 
remembered sinking hopeless and despairing, with 
her precious babe in her arms, amid smoke and 
flame, when rescue seemed impossible. 


40 


LAXJHA BliAYTON. 


Glenn hurriedly pointed out young Putnam, and 
said: 

w There’s the chap that did it, my gal. Isn’t he 
gallus to look at ; trim and straight as a liberty- 
pole, and twice as handsome. If I was the prettiest 
gal in all Baltimore, I’d kiss him before the crowd 
for what he did for you.” 

“ Heaven reward him ; I never, never can, though 
all the gratitude words can speak or heart can feel 
are his for his noble deed. Please tell me your 
name, sir, that I can breathe it in my prayers. I 
can do no more.” 

Thus addressed, young Putnam turned and said : 

“ I give you my name, Eldridge Putnam, because 
prayer is never lost. But you and your child, 
scantily clad, look both as if poverty was your lot. 
Life, though preserved, is not a blessing if it is 
spent in misery. You have lost a home. With this, 
secure another.” 

And he pressed a well-filled pocket-book in her 
hand, and instantly pushed his way out from among 
the admiring, cheering crowd. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


41 


CHAPTER VII. 

THEY MUST BE BLOTTED OUT. 

Enoch Sharp, the lame lawyer, sat at his scantily 
furnished breakfast-table. Before him lay his 
favorite morning paper. After taking a sup of 
weak coffee — he was too miserly to have it strong — 
he glanced at the local columns, as was his usual 
custom. 

“Great fire in Holiday street,” was the caption of 
the first article which met his eye ; and his face 
flushed fiery red and then grew white, as his eye 
marked the location named. 

“My block — my block!” he cried. “My insurance 
—I must see to that!” 

And he sprang from the table and rang his bell. 

It was not answered, for he had rung the bell 
which should have called Nathan Sloth ; but Nathan 
had not returned from the quest upon which he had 
sent him. Then he rang another bell, and this was 
answered by Laura Brayton. 

“Where is Nathan?” he asked, sharply, when she 
came in. “ Go and see if he is in his room ; the idle, 
lazy curse never wakes up till dinner-time without 
he is called.” 

Laura bowed and went on the errand. She came 
back in a few seconds, and said : 


42 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“ He is not in his room, sir, nor, by appearances, 
does it seem that he has been there during the 
night.” 

“Yes, yes! I remember now, limping old fool 
that I am. I sent him off on business, and till it is 
done he will not be back. Laura, go to my safe 
there— here is the key. Open it, and in the pigeon- 
hole marked ‘ Insurance’ find a bundle of papers 
tied with a black string, and bring them here.” 

The young girl obeyed. With a nervous hand the 
lawyer took the bundle, and, looking at the indorse- 
ments, quickly selected one of the papers. 

Opening it, he glanced at the date. 

“The policy expired at twelve noon, yesterday!” 
he cried. “I told Nathan to renew each policy two 
hours before it expired. If he has obeyed me, all is 
right; if he has not, curse him! If he has not, I’ll 
murder him, for I will lose full seventy thousand 
dollars— more than five hundred such lives as his 
are worth.” 

Hasty steps were heard approaching, and the next 
instant Nathan Sloth himself appeared, his face 
flushed and his gait not such as sober men generally 
exhibit. 

“Was the Holiday street tenement insured, 
Nathan Sloth?” asked Sharp, nervously. 

“Not only was, but is, most potent, grave, and 
irreverend master/’ said Nathan, with a gurgling 
laugh, 


LAURA BB A Y TO 1st. 


43 


“Then you had this policy renewed yesterday?” 
continued the lame lawyer, interrogatively. 

“No, I didn’t. I never renew policies without 
orders, do I? You’d break my head if I did.” 

“Villain! dog! this policy expired yesterday, at 
noon. Last night the house was burned to ashes. 
Not even this month’s rents paid, for the month 
opened yesterday, and the advance was not yet 
called for. Dog, you shall rot in prison!” 

Nathan had too much Dutch courage aboard to be 
terrified by the threat. He had been using his mas- 
ter’s money in paying toll in the various grog-shops 
which he had entered in carrying out his orders. 

“I’m not afeard o’ prisons while the writ o’ habby 
corpus isn’t s’pended,” he said, defiantly. “I hain’t 
done nothin’ to be jugged for. I’ve studied law for 
somethin’, I have. I’m not a thief, nor a burglar, 
nor a — limping brother of Satan, like ” 

“You miserable beggar, if you weren’t drunk I’d 
break every bone in your body!” yelled Sharp. 
“Laura, retire, while I talk to this drunken rascal.” 

“The drunken rascal got drunk on your account,” 
growled Nathan, as Laura left the room. “You 
send him into porter-houses, where he must drink 
or be kicked out as a loafer, and then you blame 
him for getting elevated. I was going to tell you 
that I had found your man and a woman, too, 
but since you are so huffy, I’ll keep my news to 
myself. It isn’t enough for a chap to be on the go 


44 


LA UR A BRAYTOtf. 


for you all night, but he must be abused and called 
all sorts of names in the morning!” 

“A man and woman — the man with the red scar 
on his face, and a woman? What kind of a woman?” 

“ How could you expect a drunken dog to remem- 
ber?” said Nathan, sarcastically. 

“ Never mind what I said. I was mad— annoyed. 
Tell me about the man and woman— was she young 
or old?” 

“How could a drunken rascal, with a prison 
staring him in the face, remember?” 

And Nathan laughed in the face of his master, a 
thing he had never done before. 

“Dog, you know me, and, drunk or sober, youTl 
tell me all you know in less than ten seconds, or 
the grave — not the jail — shall hold all that is left of 
you!” shouted Enoch Sharp, as he snatched a knife 
from the table, and springing on .the unexpecting 
clerk with a tiger-like bound, with a strength which 
seemed superhuman, he hurled him to the floor. 

With his talon-like fingers clutched in the bushy 
hair of the now really terrified clerk, he cried : 

“Now tell me all, or your life is not worth one 
little prayer!” 

And he brandished the knife over his unprotected 
throat, for with his knees he kept Nathan’s hands 
down on his body. 

Sobered by the danger of his position, knowing 
the terrible anger of the lawyer when once excited, 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


45 


the face of Nathan Sloth grew white, and, in a 
choking, tremulous voice, he cried : 

“ Oh, do put up that knife, good Mr. Sharp, and 
let me get up and I’ll tell you whatever you want 
and I can !” 

“ Get up then, you groveling cur ; get up and tell 
the truth, or I’ll send you down to the father of lies 
in a minute !” 

The cowardly clerk arose, trembling and shaking 
from head to foot, and at a motion from Sharp took 
a seat, not at but near the table. 

“Now your story. But first tell me what kind of 
appearance this woman makes whom you say you 
have seen with the man I sent you to look after.” 

“ She looks old and care-worn, but the color of her 
eyes, the shape of her features, the very expression 
of her face is so like that of Miss Laura, you’d 
swear they were related if you didn’t know all her 
relations were dead, as I’ve heard you say a hun- 
dred times.” 

“And you have seen this woman and man to- 
gether?” 

“Yes. I saw them both at the front window of a 
hotel talking earnestly together not an hour ago.” 

“Did they see you?” 

“No; and if they did, it isn’t likely they would 
know who I am.” 

“ Where was the hotel?” 

“On West Baltimore street. There is the card of 
it. After I saw them, ‘drunken dog’ as I was, I 


46 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


went in, looked over the register for names, and 
talked to the clerk about taking board there.” 

“What were the names of that man and woman?” 

“ I couldn’t find out with certainty without asking 
questions that might have hurt my chance to find 
out more by and by. But there were two names in 
the same handwriting — a crabbed, cramped hand it 
was, too — that I thought ainswered to them, for they 
were the only late arrivals. One was ‘Thomas Hig- 
gins, Key West’; the other, ‘Mrs. May Granville, 
Florida. ’ ” 

“They must be watched. Go instantly to that 
hotel and take board there. Keep there, and report 
to me every two hours until you see me. Report in 
writing by a messenger who will call on you.” 

“Yes, sir— but you forget all about that insurance 
now.” 

“Never mind the insurance. It may be that I am 
playing for a greater stake than that. Go and do 
as I bid you. Serve me faithfully, and I may yet 
forgive your neglect, which has cost me so much.” 

The clerk saw that obedience was his best policy 
just then. So he left the room at once. 

“If she and that villain are both alive, I have 
more than common odds to deal with,” muttered 
Sharp, as he stood alone by the table. “ They must 
be blotted out, or the vengeance which I have 
studied for years will be frustrated.” 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


47 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A HASTY FLIGHT. 

Nathan Sloth was in error when he thought that 
he was unknown to the man who stood beside the 
woman, at the front window of the hotel in West 
Baltimore street. He was instantly recognized, and 
the man, turning to the lady, said : 

“ Madam, that is a clerk in Sharp’s office. He has 
been sent to track me out. I saw by his glance that 
he recognized me. He is coming in here. I will go 
down and find out what inquiries he makes.” 

“Do so, captain,” said the lady. “Ido not wish 
Sharp to be aware of my actual presence in the city, 
or even that I am alive until we are fully prepared 
to cope with and to punish him.” 

The man instantly left the room and went down 
to a passage-way from which he observed the mo- 
tions and heard the words of Nathan Sloth in the 
office of the hotel. 

As soon as Nathan left, he went up to the room 
where the lady awaited his return. 

“We must make sail out of this, madam!” he 
said. “That shark of a lawyer is on our scent. 
The fellow has evidently gone to report, and will, I 
think, come back here to remain watching us.” 

“ Then we must leave here at once. Settle our bill 
and have our luggage removed to a carriage. We 
will remove out of town a short distance, and 
when it is safe we can carry out the other plans. 


48 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


The fact that all is just as I remember it was when 
last in the secret apartments satisfies me that no 
one now dwelling under that roof is aware of its 
mysteries. We can punish the sordid wretch terri- 
bly, if like most children of guilt he is a coward at 
heart. ” 

“ I will go to order a carriage at once,” said the 
captain. 

“Do so, and pay the bill while it is coming,” said 
the lady, handing him a purse. 

“ Soon — how my heart throbs at the thought — I 
shall see and be near to watch over her who has so 
long been in the power of a monster in form and in 
spirit.” 

And the face of the lady flushed with excite- 
ment, told how earnestly she was entering on the 
work before her. 

The captain was gone but a very short time. 

“Fortune favors us, madam,” said he. “Instead 
of being obliged to engage a city hack, which might 
be tracked, I fell in with a private carriage owned 
by a young farmer who lives just outside of the 
city. After a brief conversation with him I have 
engaged him to take our luggage and ourselves 
away. And, madam, I have told the clerk we are 
going to Philadelphia by the next train, so as to 
throw any one off our track who goes to him for 
information.” 

“You have done exceedingly well, good captain. 
Were it not for you, I know not how I could pro- 
ceed in my labor to right myself and gain a cause 
so dear to me that when once successful, I could 
resign life without a murmur.” 

“I am only doing my duty, madam. I have a 
dark past to wash away, and only good work can 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


49 


do it. But let me beg you to hurry. The sooner we 
get away from here the better. Until we are settled 
and fully prepared for war, I do not wish Enoch 
Sharp to get in close contact with us. Rich, re- 
morseless, as ready for murder as he ever has been, 
he would never let us get into a position to assail 
him if in the start he could get us into his power.” 

“True, most true, good captain. You shall guide 
me now, for in you and in Him who is the truest 
friend to the widow and the orphan, alone can I 
trust.” 

And the lady at once made her preparations for a 
change of quarters. 

In a little while these preparations were con- 
cluded, the baggage removed, and the apartments 
which had been engaged by the parties from Florida 
were vacant. 

And this change had been effected so speedily and 
so quietly that when, an hour later, Nathan Sloth 
came to take transient board there, registering his 
name as Nathan Trotter, he did not know that the 
game he had come to watch over was beyond his 
reach. Knowing that it would not be his safest 
plan to ask questions at the start, he merely selected 
a room, which, by its number, he judged to be oppo- 
site to those occupied by the parties registering 
from Florida, paid his board a week in advance, 
took an “ invigorating glass” at the bar and a 
seat near a window, so that he could watch the 
street as well as keep a lookout inside, and then he 
took from his pocket an old paper, in which he 
seemed at once to become deeply interested. 

For an hour he remained at his post, then he arose 
pmd muttered to himself : 


50 


LAURA BRAYTQN. 


“ The old curse will be sending here soon for a re- 
port, and I have none to make. I will go to my 
room and use my ears, if I have nothing to see.” 

He accordingly asked for the key of his room, and 
went to it. 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


51 


CHAPTER IX. 

“YOU ARE MY WARD, AND YOU SHALL OBEY ME.” 

Enoch Sharp sent a boy, as he promised, to the 
hotel where Nathan Sloth had taken his head- 
quarters as a spy, ahd waited anxiously for his re- 
turn. He evidently felt that he was in danger, for 
he was unusually nervous and agitated. 

Instead of the boy with a written report, Nathan 
came in person. 

“ What does this mean?” cried Sharp, angrily, 
when his eyes rested on the gaunt form of his 
clerk. “ Did I not order you to stay there and keep 
your eyes on them, to watch every motion, and re- 
port to me in writing?” 

“Yes, you did. But what is impossible, can’t be. 
I can’t watch them that I can’t see.” 

“ Why could you not see them?” 

“Because they’re non est— they’ve cut and run.” 

“Where to?” 

“ That is more than I know. In a little while after 
I was there the man came down and paid both 
bills — they were the Florida entries that I spoke of 
on the register — and then they went away.” 

“Where to?” again thundered the irate laywer. 

“The man said to take the Philadelphia train. 
The minute he said that I saw I had time to get to 
the depot before it started, and I jumped into a 
butcher’s cart going by, and gave the fellow a 
dollar to take me there in ten minutes. He ran 


LAURA BRA TTON. 


52 

over any quantity of men, women, and children to 
do it, but I was there in time to go through the cars 
and look every passenger in the face before they 
started. They were not there.” 

“No, no, they are in the city, and bent on war. I 
know who both are now. They are the dead come 
back to life to rob me. The curse of Heaven is on 
me.” 

The last expressions came from Sharp’s lips as if 
he did not think any one was present to hear them. 
His face was white with anxiety, and an expression 
of mental misery rested on his countenance. 

“What is to be done, sir? If they’re in the city, 
and if I can’t find ’em, nobody else can.” 

“You’ll get drunk, spending my money, and 
making a fool of yourself!” groaned Sharp. 

“I won’t get drunk, if I don’t have to go into 
porter-houses. I can’t go in such cribs and not take 
something. They ask such miserable-looking coves 
as I am to git up and git without they spend money 
there. Then they’re as good as a dandy nob. But 
tell me what you want done.” 

“ I want you to find that man Bartram that was 
here yesterday. You will most likely find him at 
Guy’s, on Monument square. When you see him 
send him to me instantly. What he has to do must 
be done at once. Tell him I will not bear with an 
instant’s delay. He knows me. Warn him that I 
am in no humor to trifle !” 

Nathan nodded his head and left the room, mut- 
tering something about a hurricane. 

The instant he was gone the lawyer rang the 
bell, which was generally answered by Laura Bray- 
ton, and then going to a safe he took out a package 
of papers. 


LAURA BRA YTON. 


53 


Laura appeared herself a moment afterward, and 
he told her to sit down. He would tell her what he 
wanted in a few minutes. 

Taking a seat near the table, and seeing tnat he 
was occupied in looking over documents, she care- 
lessly took up the morning paper and began to 
read it. 

Her eye rested on the paragraph which had so 
excited him, the account of the fire, and in an in- 
stant her face flushed up, a smile lighted up her 
countenance, and involuntarily she exclaimed : 

“ How noble, how brave ! It was just like him.” 

“Just like who? What do you see there that sets 
your eyes aglow and your cheeks aflame?” ex- 
claimed Sharp, looking up, and seeing her excite- 
ment. 

“Why, sir, Mr. Eldridge Putnam saved a poor 
woman and her chlid, at the risk of his own life, 
from the fire last night.” 

“ That was the cursed puppy that I drove from the 
house — the fellow that presumed to ask leave of me 
to pay attentions to you, eh?” 

“He was the gentleman whom you cruelly in- 
sulted because he desired to visit me!” replied 
Laura, indignantly. 

“ Gentleman, indeed ! Gentlemen are in the habit 
of running to fires ! Gentlemen would be likely to 
get burned half to death in saving poor women and 
their brats from a burning house ! But he knows 
better than to come here ! I wish he had burned 
with the house! Over seventy thousand dollars 
gone in smoke and flame, and the insurance run 
Put! I’ll be the death of Nathan Sloth for that! 
Put that paper down, Laura, and listen to me.” 

Laura laid the paper down quietly, but she did 


54 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


not quail beneath his frowning look. She evidently 
had some spirit, and he had aroused it. 

“Girl!” he said, after looking at her sternly a 
moment; “I. have made up my mind to have the 
care of you off my hands. You are old enough now 
to require more watching than I have time to be- 
stow. So you can get ready for marriage. I shall 
give you one week for preparation, and that is more 
than enough, for you will not have a fashionable 
wedding or require an extravagant outfit.” 

Laura’s dark eyes looked first wonderingly, and 
then indignantly, upon his scowling face. 

“Did you understand what I said?” he asked, in a 
sneering tone ; “ or are you too innocent to compre- 
hend what matrimony amounts to?” 

“ I know your meaning, sir. But in that which 
is to shape my future destiny, I certainly am old 
enough to have a choice.” 

“A choice? Yes, my choice shall be yours. Yes- 
terday I introduced you to the man who henceforth 
will have the control of your mind and person. 
Jake Bartram is his name. His origin, habits, pre- 
vious life, all will make a fine study for you during 
the honeymoon. I have sent for him. After I have 
imparted my wishes, it will be for you to receive 
him on the footing of an accepted and betrothed 
lover. Mark me! no disobedience on your part! 
While you obey, you will be treated well. When 
you rebel, close confinement and starvation till you 
submit to my wishes.” 

“Then, sir, you may as well begin at once. I will 
not marry that man Bartram or any other whom 
you chose. He is neither a man nor a gentleman. 
Ht j is but a tool to carry out some of your designs. 
If you will let me go out free into the world you 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


55 


need no longer watch over or care for me. If, as 
you have often said, you have money of mine in 
your hands, keep it, but give me my freedom. I 
can at least live by the labor of my hands, for you 
have had me taught how to work ever since I was 
old enough to stand. Keep what you have of mine, 
but let me go!” 

“ That might suit you, but not me. That might 
suit your hero, Mr. Eldridge Putnam, but it does 
not suit me. No, girl, no ! You are my ward, and 
you shall obey me !” • 

“ Show me the papers that give you a right of 
control over me.” 

“ I will when I feel inclined. At present I do not. 
How do you know that I have not a parent's right 
to control you.” 

“Because the repugnance which fills my soul 
when I look at you tells me you have not. Because 
nature, shuddering at your deformity, tells me no 
kindred blood to you fills any vein of mine.” 

“Girl, were not revenge too precious I would 
throttle you to death on the spot. I will make you 
weep oceans of tears for every taunt. Mark me, 
Laura Brayton ! get ready for marriage. When you 
are the wife of a gambler, a thief, and a murderer, 
who dares not thwart me in anything I bid him do, 
I will tell you what blood runs in your veins. Be- 
gone ! you have angered me almost beyond control. 
Begone ! but remember you are watched. Do not 
attempt to leave this house without my permission, 
or you shall pass the next twenty-four hours in the 
slimy cellar-vaults with rats for companions.” 

The poor girl went shuddering from the room, 
while he, raging like a wild beast, hopped to and 
fro around the room on his deformed limbs, looking 


56 


LA UR A BUAYTON. 


as if he would like to rend some living thing 
asunder in his ferocious passion. 

“She is like what her mother was,” he muttered. 
“ The same looks, the same haughty temper when 
aroused. But I will tame her, or, what is more, I’ll 
make Jake do it. With a rope ready for his neck 
when I choose to have it noosed, he dare not thwart 
my will. I need him and his cut-throat gang, and 
it is well to possess the power to use them at will.” 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


57 


CHAPTER X. 

“MORE CRIME TO DRAG ME DOWN.” 

Limping to and fro in his room, his face more like 
that of a fiend than a human being, so dark and 
sinister, so full of malignancy, Enoch Sharp impa- 
tiently waited for the appearance of Bartram. 
Minutes ever seem like hours to one who waits on 
the rack of suspense, and hours drag on like days. 

But at last he came. His face flushed with strong 
drink, his eyes blood-shot and hazy, his hands 
quivering with unnatural tremors, did not improve 
his looks, and as we have said before, his appear- 
ance at the best was not attractive. 

“ Why, in the name of the foul fiend, have you 
lingered so long? I sent for you in haste!” said 
Sharp, angrily, to the gambler. 

“I came as soon as I got your message,” replied 
Bartram, testily. 

“My message! my order, sir! You are mine- 
mine, body and soul ; and when I bid you come, 
come; when I say go, go!” 

“Well, have your own way, if it suits you. What 
do you want of me? I am here with two bad things 
to bother me. One is a headache— the other an 
empty pocket.” 

“Yes, and both resulting from one cause — your 
own folly and your groveling appetite for drink. 
You have not even the caution of most men of your 
trade. Bart, you are little better than a beast.” 


58 


LAURA SRAYTOK 


“Then you and I ought to be of kin. But I’m in 
no humor for sermons. What do you want of me ?” 

“ I want you to marry Laura Brayton at once. I 
have given her a week to prepare in. In that week 
you must do all your courting. See to it, sir, see to 
it, I say !” 

“ I see no use in courting, when you force her on 
me, and me on her. No use in either of us saying a 
word, if, as you say, we are in your power.” 

“You stumble on the truth, fora wonder,” said 
Sharp, with a sneering laugh. “ There is no need 
of delay. I only give it for my own convenience. 
For mere form sake I thought you might try to 
render yourself a little less disagreeable to her.” 

“ With my blood-shot eyes and the 'shakes’ almost 
on me. I have drank until I have to keep full of 
drink to be anything. I am a miserable drunkard, 
and it is all your fault, Enoch Sharp.” 

“My fault, fool! Did I ever place a glass of liquor 
in your hand?” 

“No, but you led me first into folly and then into 
crime. Then I learned I had a conscience ; that it 
had a terrible remorse which was eating up my 
very heart. I drowned it — ha! ha! I drowned my 
conscience in red wine and brandy, and now 1 have 
none. But the remorse! oh, Heaven! the remorse 
is here night and day! night and day!” 

And the wretched man smote himself with his 
clenched hand on his great, broad chest, and 
groaned in mental agony. 

“Good! good! You can feel yet. Now make her 
feel ! Let her know the sleepless nights which be- 
long to the watching, waiting wife of a drunkard. 
Do not spare her when bad luck empties your pock- 
ets. Blows and curses, curses and blows ; they are 


LAURA BRATTON. 


59 


the coin the drunken gambler always has left for 
home, when he has lost his gold and silver else- 
where. Laura Brayton must have her share of 
these!” 

And the wretch laughed hoarsely, as if the 
thought of her misery was exquisite pleasure to 
him. 

Bartram looked at him with an expression of in- 
finite disgust. 

“ You called me a beast just now,” said he. 
“What are you, Enoch Sharp, what are you?” 

“Only a devil, poor fool; only a devil!” cried the 
wretch, with a chilling laugh. “ I doubt if Beelze- 
bub has my equal in his ranks below, or in his 
servants above. And I have power, gold, influence 
— men bow to me, obey me, limping wretch that 
nature has left me. I hate beauty, and I trample it 
under my crooked feet. I hate — well, sir, what do 
you want staring in here without knocking like an 
idiot, which you are?” 

The last words were addressed to Nathan Sloth, 
who plunged into the room with his face red with 
heat and dripping with perspiration, while his 
labored breathing told that he had run himself 
almost out of breath. 

“The man with the scar— is— is,” gasped Nathan, 
“is ” 

“Where? Have you seen him, fool? Speak, or 
I’ll throttle you!” cried the excited lawyer. 

“ I will — as — soon as I can get breath. I’ve run a 
mile so hard people cried stop thief, and they 
couldn’t stop me, to tell you he has gone into 
Lawyer Johnson’s office.” 

“What, the office of the great Johnson?” 

“Yes, sir. He is there now. He went in there 


60 


LAUIiA BRAYTON. 


with a bundle of papers in his hand. Old docs they 
looked like.” 

“ Then he is where we can reach him. Bring this 
man, Bartram, a full glass of brandy to steady his 
nerves. Do it right away.” 

Nathan left the room, and the lawyer turned to 
Bartram. 

“Now, if you want money and a chance to be a 
man once more, I’ll give it to you. But you have 
work, serious work to do. After you have taken a 
dose which will steady that hand of yours and put 
new courage in your heart, you will go with Nathan 
Sloth to a point where you can see the man that he 
has alluded to. Are you armed?” 

“Yes, I never go without both knife and pistol,” 
said Bartram, sullenly. 

“It is well. You will know the man by his sea- 
faring look and gait, and a deep-red scar, which, 
passing down the entire right cheek, severs his 
upper lip and extends to the lower one. I wish him 
followed until you find him communicating with a 
woman, and then — then both he and the woman 
must die. I care not how, but both must be got out 
of the wa y, and you must do it!” 

“You want another hold on me; more crime to 
drag me down with.” 

“Fool ! What is one or two more murders to you? 
Your hand is red with the blood of a dozen lives 
already. The rope is twisted, ay, knotted for your 
neck, if I but let loose the proofs I have upon you. 
Why then hesitate to do my bidding when as yet I 
feel like letting you have a longer lease of life and 
continued immunity from justice?” 

Bartram trembled from head to foot, but made no 
reply. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


61 


“This man, and the woman leagued with him, 
whoever she is, must be got out of the way. Do you 
hear?” continued the lawyer. 

“Yes, I hear. But I have done murder enough. I 
am sick at the thought of more blood!” 

“Bah! Drink that, and your scruples will go 
down with it.” 

And the fiendish lawyer pointed to a brimming 
glass of brandy which Nathan Sloth brought into 
the room as he spoke. 

Bartram seized and ^wallowed it instantly. 

“Now are you ready to go with him?” And Sharp 
pointed to his clerk. “Are you ready to go and do 
the work? He will point out the man.” 

“ I presume I have seen the man already. And I 
thought he would have been here to see you before 
this time, for he wanted a smart lawyer to do some 
business for him that had heaps of money in it, he 
said. I told him how smart you were, and he asked 
so many questions about you that I was sure he 
would come to you to do his work.” 

“Fool! The man has been pumping you? Tell 
me all about it.” 

Bartram gave the lawyer an account of all that 
he could remember of what had occurred between 
him and the man in the porter-house. 

Sharp preserved a thoughful silence, after Bar- 
tram had finished his recital, for several minutes. 
Then he said : 

“I must put this job in other hands. You are 
known to him, and he will be put on his guard if he 
sees you near him.” 

“I’m glad of that,” said Bartram, with a sigh of 
relief. 

“ Do you know one who can take your place ; one 


62 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


whose hand is sure, courage good, that can be hired 
to do what you should do?” asked Sharp, after an- 
other pause. 

“There’s plenty to be had for money, in this city, 
who are up to any deed. But they’re not all trusty. 
Now I know a fellow who would murder his mother 
for a dollar when he is dry and dead broke, but 
when he is flush he is as saucy as a king or a duke, 
and might blab on his best friend, especially when 
he is Tushy.’ ” 

“Drunk! Why don’t you talk plain English in- 
stead of using flash terms.” 

“ Because you understand one full as well as the 
other.” 

The lawyer scowled angrily, but made no reply. 
For a time he seemed in deep study. 

“Who is this man you mean?” he asked, at last. 

“He is known among ‘cross-men’* as ‘Lobster 
Joe.’ On the police records his aliases are hard to 
number. Joe Bargrub is one, Bill Baker another, 
Ed Brown a third.” 

“I’ve heard of him. Why do they call him 
Lobster Joe?” 

“Because his nose is the shape and the color of 
the claw of a boiled lobster. It is hooked and red 
as fire. And his eyes, they set deep under a shaggy 
pair of eyebrows and burn like orbs of a mad snake 
in their sockets. When he feels ugly a man must 
have nerve to meet those eyes without a shudder.” 

“He has been tried for murder, hasn’t he?” 

“Yes, but he was too bright to have it proved on 
him. I know he has put more men out of the way 
than he has fingers and toes, not to count in three 
or four women, but I couldn’t fasten him on it.” 

* “Cross-men.” — Thieves, burglars, etc. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


«3 


“ Send him to me to-night. Tell him to come half 
an hour before midnight, and he shall have gold for 
his trouble, and perhaps a paying job.” 

“ All right, sir. Count that as good as done, Mr. 
Sharp. I’m so glad to get a bad job off my hands 
that I’d run my feet off to serve you.” 

“Then go at once and do my bidding. And to- 
morrow, dressed well, and sober, make a call on 
Laura Brayton. She’ll be ready to receive you, I 
think. It will be the worse for her if she is not.” 

“ Poor girl, I pity her. I’m not fit for anything so 
good as she is.” 

Enoch Sharp smiled sarcastically. 

“You are a hard case, Mr. Bartram, but there are 
worse than you in the world. You’re good enough 
for my purpose.” 

“Yes, and that is just what old Nick will say 
when he gets me down below in sulphurdom. But 
there is no use in my wasting time. I must be 
moving on my hunt for Lobster Joe.” 

“Well, find him and let him be here at the hour I 
named.” 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


cr 


CHAPTER XI. 

LAURA’S APPEAL. 

“The active life of a ‘fire laddie’ is not one to 
improve one’s good looks!” said Eldridge Putnam 
to himself, as late on the day following his daring 
and successful exploit in saving life at the fire, he 
stood before his mirror and surveyed his scorched 
and darkened features, and his singed eyebrows 
and hair. “ I once sailed in a Philadelphia yacht 
that was, as I thought, very fancifully named the 
‘Singed Cat,’ and to look at my singed appearance 
just now, I think I’d do well as one of the crew of 
such a craft, living up to the name, in looks at any 
rate.” 

For a little while he used the various appliances 
of his toilet-table to improve his appearance as far 
as he could, but he could not obliterate the fresh 
and honorable scars made by lurid flames and hot 
cinders, nor restore his hair. 

He was interrupted by a gentle knock at the 
door. 

“Come in,” said he, turning to see who entered. 

It was a dapper little man, whose exquisite style 
of dress, almost as quickly as his accent, betrayed 
his nativity. 

“Ah, Monsieur Maret, is it you? I am glad to see 
you. Take a seat, I will be at leisure in a moment,” 
said Putnam, pleasantly. 

“ Oui, certainement , zis is me, mon cher ami ; but is zat 


LAURA BRATTON. 


65 


you? I ’ave been inform in ze paper zat you were 
one grand hero, and waz mooch disable, and I come 
to see you so soon as was possible when I 'ave 
ascertain ze news!” 

And Monsieur Maret examined the appearance of 
Putnam, with great attention, through an eyeglass. 

“Ah, mon cher ami , you are very brave! You can 
endure to be disfigured, and yet you smile! Was it 
me, I should weep!” 

“ Why, Monsieur Maret, these scars are but skin- 
deep and will disappear with time. And my hair 
will grow again. A slight loss in personal appear- 
ance is nothing when one thinks that he has saved 
two lives.” 

“ Oui , certainement, zat is somesing, mon cher ami , 
but ze paper observe zat you peril your life, not for 
ze rich, but for ze poor ; not for ze aristocracie , but 
ze canaille /” 

And the shoulders of the Frenchman, in a depre- 
cating shrug, as well as his upraised eyebrows, ex- 
pressed more than words his astonishment. 

“You would not have one of those whom you term 
the canaille outdo an aristocrat in an act of humanity, 
or courage, if such you chose to term it. A brave 
fireman first risked his life and nearly lost it in the 
endeavor to save the woman and child whom I 
rescued.” 

“ Oui. But if he have die, like him zere are plenty 
more. Like you, so few. It was brave, mon ami y 
but it was not politique.” 

Putnam smiled at the idea of the contrast be- 
tween bravery and policy, but made no remark 
upon that point. He knew the originality of Maret, 
whose residence in America had not been of suffi- 
cient length to entirely republicanize him. 


66 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“Will you pay a visit with me, Monsieur Maret?” 
he asked. 

“A visit? You will not go upon ze promenade 
wiz zat face, mon ami ?” 

“Yes; why not?” and the young man smiled at 
the expression of surprise which marked the face 
of the Frenchman. “ I shall muffle up my face to 
keep from catching cold, so that there will be too 
little of my temporary ugliness seen to endanger 
any hysterical attack should I meet any of the fair 
sex. I am going to see the gallant fireman who 
was unsuccessful in the attempt which I emulated. 
He was so badly hurt they had to carry him home.” 

Putnam now made preparations for his walk. 
While doing so a servant brought him a note, 
written in a delicate hand. 

His face exhibited signs of excitement as he read 
it. 

To appreciate the cause, we too must know its 
contents. 

“My kind friend, my self-constituted guardian 
has approached the climax of persecution. He now 
threatens to force me to an abhorrent marriage 
with a ruffian whom he holds under his control. 
Starvation and imprisonment are the least of the 
evils which he threatens if I continue to refuse to 
obey him. Were it death instead, I would hail it 
with pleasure before I would consent to his wishes. 
I am allowed but little time to decide, and being 
closely watched, can only write a few words to in- 
form you, whom I know to be my friend, how I am 
situated. 1 have read of your brave act at the fire. 
Heaven bless you and save me. Laura.” 

“ This must be seen to at once. She must be res- 
cued from his power and that speedily!” said the 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


67 


young man, as he refolded the note and placed it in 
an inside pocket. “ I will pay a brief visit to my 
friend, the fireman, and then take steps to get her 
out of the power of that wretch of a lawyer.” 


68 


LAURA BRATTON. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE COMPACT. 

Enoch Sharp sat in his library, watching the face 
of the clock. Its hand pointed to half -past eleven. 

“ It is time that the wretch whom Bartram calls 
‘Lobster Joe/ was here,” he said, impatiently. 

“Well, the wretch is here, boss. What do you 
want of him?” 

Sharp sprang to his feet in sudden terror, for in a 
shrill, snarling voice, like the growling of an ugly 
cur, these words came to his ear. 

And there, close to his chair, stood a slender, yet 
large-honed fellow, poorly clad, with sharp, wild 
eyes, a face full of freckles and blotches, and with 
a large, hooked, red nose, so like the claw of a 
boiled lobster that there was no wonder at the name 
given him by his associates. 

“How did you get into this room without my 
knowledge?” cried the lawyer, in mixed surprise 
and anger. 

“That is my business, boss. I haven’t such a good 
character that it would do even you any good to 
have it known to servants or anybody else that I 
visited you,” snarled the man, impudently. “You 
wanted me, and I’m here. It is all the better that 
nobody else knows it. If it would pay, I could 
choke you to death, and people would think the old 
’un from below had come after your soul, and had 
to strangle you to get it.” 

And the man stretched out his long, bony 


LAURA BRATTON. 


fingers, with sharp, talon-like nails, as if he would 
like to do such a deed. 

“Why wouldn’t it pay?” asked Sharp, nervously. 

“ ’Cause dead chickens can’t lay eggs. You’ll pay 
me for work that I’m used to. As long as you pay 
well, I’d be a fool to put you where you couldn’t 
do it.” 

“You’re a philosopher, Lobster Joe.” 

“No, I’m not. I’m a thief and a murderer! But 
you can’t prove it, boss. They can’t hang a man on 
his own confession, if he asks a trial and they’ve 
no witnesses against him. But go ahead and tell 
me what you want with me. I’m hungry and I’m 
dry ; I’m out of chink, and I don’t feel like stealin’ 
to-night. I’ve passed three policemen who were 
awake to-night, and that is so uncommon that I’m 
afraid I’d be in bad luck if I axed some man for a 
loan of what he had about him.” 

“You shall have both food and drink. Stay here, 
and I will go and get it.” 

And the lawyer limped out of the room. 

The moment he was gone Joe looked around the 
room to see if there was anything valuable which 
he could appropriate. The search did not reward 
him with any visible wealth in prospective. Glanc- 
ing at the two large iron safes, he took a chunk of 
wax from his pocket and took impressions of the 
keyholes, and looked particularly at the numbers 
of the safes and name of the maker. 

“If he doesn’t shell out easy, I’ll shell for him,” 
muttered Joe, taking a seat and waiting for the re- 
turn of the lawyer. 

The latter came back in a few minutes with a 
platter of bread and meat and a bottle of brandy, 
with a glass to drink from, 


70 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“ Eat and drink, and while you are doing it listen 
to me,” said Sharp, putting the food and drink on 
the table. 

Joe nodded his shaggy head, threw off his old 
cap, and went at the bottle first, emptying a full 
glass of the raw liquor before he touched the food. 
Then he ate with a verocity more beast-like than 
human. 

“Bartram says you will do anything for money,” 
said Sharp, eying the man closely. 

“Well, let him say so. Fm not goin’ to make him 
out a liar,” said Joe, half-choked with a huge chunk 
of beef. 

“ There is a man and a woman in my way — I 
want them out of it.” 

“Good! How much for the man?” 

“A hundred dollars,” said Sharp, hesitatingly. 

“Then he isn’t much in your way. You must bid 
higher when I’ve got enough to eat and drink afore 
me. If you’d took me when I was hungry and dry, 
I’d have cut your throat for half the money 1” 

And Joe looked as if he was half sorry he had not 
done it. 

“ Thank you. I’m glad you are getting fed. When 
I die, I don’t care about its being with a throat dis- 
ease.” 

And Enoch Sharp 'made a ghastly attempt to 
smile at his own pleasantry. 

“Hemp is as good as steel, and you wouldn’t be 
the first lawyer that crossed the black river on a 
rope,” said Joe, grinning. 

“I’ll give you one hundred dollars down, to en- 
courage you, and five hundred more when both the 
persons are out of my way— dead, I mean.” 

“Good! Hand over the hundred.” 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


71 


“ Will you undertake the job?” 

“No; I'm no undertaker — they follow my work. 
I’ll do the job clean up to the handle. Just hand 
over the flimsey,* and point out the game.” 

“ The man is a sea-captain, past middle age, with 
a deep, red scar running clear down his right cheek 
and through his upper lip. My clerk is now track- 
ing him out, and will tell you in the morning where 
he stops, and also describe the woman.” 

“Good! They’re ticketed for a berth in the next 
world. Have you any choice how they are to travel 
— noisy or quiet?” 

“I don’t understand you.” 

“Maybe not. This you see, makes a noise,” and 
Joe pulled out a battered, rough-looking, but evi- 
dently serviceable revolver. Then he exhibited a 
slung-shot, a keen, long-bladed knife, and a vial of 
dark liquid, adding, “These ’ere takes ’em off 
quiet.” 

“I care not how it is done, so that it is done 
quickly,” said the lawyer, nervously. “There are 
ten ten-doilar bills. Let me know where my man, 
Nathan Sloth, can find you in the morning.” 

He can’t find me nowhere. Do you think I’m 
green enough to have any second-hand dealings? 
No, sir-ee! Your man mustn’t know me, nor’ do I 
want to know him. I’ll come to you to-morrow 
morning to hear what you have to tell me. I work 
safe, I do, if I am only a second-fiddle in a red 
game.” 

“You are right; it is best to keep our work to our- 
selves. And now, as you have emptied both bottle 
and platter, you can leave. I have some writing to 
do.” * 


“ Flimsey ’’—money. 


72 


LAURA BRATTON. 


“Thunder! What’s that?” 

A low, hollow groan seemed to rumble through 
the room, causing the professional murderer to 
spring to his feet with a start, upsetting the platter 
from which he had eaten, and shivering it on the 
floor. 

The lawyer looked white and scared, but he made 
no reply. 

“Somebody is sick near by?” continued Joe, look- 
ing nervously around him. 

“No, there is nobody ill in the house!” muttered 
Sharp. “Do you believe in ghosts, man?” 

“Nary a ghost. They’ve never troubled me yet, 
and if there were any they’d ought to have given me 
more than one lift.” 

“ Murder — murder !” 

These words in a low, unearthly groan rolled 
through the room. 

“Look here, old chap, if you’re playin’ some game 
to scare me, you’d better dry up, or I’ll be making 
hash out of your mutton. I don’t like foolin’, d’ye 
hear!” 

And Joe put his hand into the side-pocket where 
he had just placed his murderous looking knife. 

“It is no game of mine, the house must be 
haunted. Once before, strange and unaccountable 
sounds have terrified me.” 

And Enoch Sharp trembled from head to foot. 

“Well, I’ve heard of such things, and I never 
knew of a ghost talking before. I’d like to see one. 
I think a pill from my pepper-box would make a 
hole through it.” 

And Joe pulled out his revlover. 

“Ha! ha! ha! ha!” 


LAURA BRATTON, 


73 


Low peals of mocking laughter now filled the 
room. 

“ Curse me if I can stand this. I believe, boss, the 
old boy has got a mortgage on you, and means to 
foreclose. Good-night. When I come again, it 
shall be daylight. If a one-armed sailor asks to see 
you in the morning, let him in for it will be me with 
one arm strapped down inside my clothes. I use 
that rig when I go on a begging lay to look out for 
a cracking bid.”* 

“Very well — I will see you. I believe I’ll go out 
and take a walk, for I don’t like these noises here.” 

“I would, if I was you. I’m not much more skeery 
than a bull-dog, but I don’t like ’em myself. The 
laughin’ is worse than the groans.” 

“Ha! ha! ha!” 

Again the mocking sounds rolled through the 
room. 

The lawyer and Joe both hurried out of the apart- 
ment. 


*A chance to commit a burglary. 


74 


LAURA BRATTON. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A VISIT FROM PUTNAM. 

Sammy Glenn, the fireman, lay stretched out on a 
lounge in a small but neatly furnished room, which 
from the cooking-stove in it, the corner cupboard, 
and the brightly scoured oaken table, with the white 
cloth folded on it, appeared to serve as kitchen, 
dining-room, sitting-room, and all. 

His bandaged head and a plaster where his face 
had been cut, as well as his reclining position, told 
that he had been pretty severely hurt, and was not 
yet fit for outdoor service. 

An elderly lady, so resembling him in features 
that her maternity could not be doubted, was 
moving around the room quietly, dusting off the 
table and chairs, for she had just swept the room, 
leaving not a speck of dirt or even dust anywhere ; 
so she seemed to dust more for form’s sake than 
from necessity. 

The door was suddenly opened, and a very dirty- 
faced, barefooted, ill-clad boy looked in. 

“ Please, Miss Glenn, there’s a dandy chap and a 
t’other one down stairs as wants to see Sammy. 
T’other one give me some stamps, he did, and he’s 
white, he is. May I fotch ’em up?” 

“ I wonder who they can be; it isn’t the doctor, 
Sammy, for he said he wouldn’t be here again afore 
to-morrow.” 

“No matter who it is, mother. Let Billy Smut 


LAURA BRAYTON , i 75 

bring ’em up. I’m not afraid to see anybody no 
time. I don’t owe nobody nothin’ but good-will, 
and that never ’ll break a feller.” 

Billy Smut, the aforesaid urchin so appropriately 
named, heard the fireman say this, and darted 
away to summon the visitors. 

A minute or two later, Sammy’s head having 
been meantime raised on a couple of snow-white 
pillows brought from the bedroom adjoining, the 
door was opened io admit Eldridge Putnam and 
Monsieur Maret. 

“ My brave friend, I told you I would come to see 
you, and here I am,” cried Eldridge, advancing to 
Sammy with a pleased expression. 

“Mother, it’s him. It is the very chap that saved 
the woman and child when I got keeled over and 
couldn’t,” cried the gratified and astonished Glenn. 

And in spite of weakness and pain the young fire- 
man partially rose to reach out his hand to Putnam. 

“My friend, Monsieur Maret. He has come to 
mak6 the acquaintance of a brave fireman!” con- 
tinued Putnam, presenting his friend. 

The widow courtesied and blushed, and dusting 
off her chairs again with her spotless apron, pre-- 
sented seats to the aristocratic visitors of her idol- 
ized son ; and while her ears were open to every 
word of praise bestowed on him, her eyes were 
wandering round all the time to see if every part of 
her little home was as neat and tidy as she was her- 
self. 

And now, young Putnam, a thorough man and 
gentleman, was making himself as fully conversant 
as he could with the situation of Sammy Glenn, in 
hope of finding out without appearing to intend it, 
some means of assisting him and his mother. One 


76 


LAURA BRATTON. 


kind inquiry leading to another, informs him that 
he rents for his mother and himself only that room 
and a bedroom for her use; also that in the same 
tenement-house there dwells one who is “all the 
world” to Sammy, and a great deal to his mother, 
for in her the good old lady yet expects to see a 
daughter when Sammy gets able to support a wife. 
She works in a book-bindery dowm-town, for a good- 

hearted old Englishman on F street, and will be 

home early that day for she had arranged to bring 
a part of her work home so as to sit by his side 
while he was in pain and unable to get up. 

“Annie is just the nicest little gal that ever 
stepped,” said Sammy, proudly. “I only wish she’d 
come in while you’re here. You’d say you’d never 
seen her beat — not even at the Holiday.” 

At this instant there was a rustle of calico, and 
in, before she saw that there were strangers there, 
hurried a golden-haired, blue-eyed beauty, plump 
as a partridge, and breathless with haste. 

“Oh, Sammy!” she cried; then, with her face 
mantled in blushes, she would have fled out of the 
room, had not Sammy called out : 

“Don’t go, these are my friends, they’re not the 
stuck-up kind o’ chaps that is too proud to speak to 
workies like us. This is Mr. Putnam, that saved 
the woman and little baby when I couldn’t. Shake 
hands with him, Annie, just for me now.” 

Thus urged, in a modest flutter, poor Annie ex- 
tended her small labor-bronzed hand, and timidly 
expressed her thanks at being introduced to Sam- 
my’s friend. 

And then she took out of her pocket an orange, 
and two big red apples, one of the latter being for 
Sammy’s mother, and laid them down on the little 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


77 


table. And then she said she would go to her room 
to fix up a little, and comb her hair, and she would 
come back to sit by Sammy's side and work. 

What a wave of honest pride rolled out from the 
fireman's great, warm heart, as he turned to Put- 
nam when she left the room, and said : 

“Isn’t she nice? And she is just as good as she 
looks. She is sweeter than all the oranges that 
ever grew. If it wasn’t for her and mother here, 
I’d be like the rest of the boys, a throwin’ myself 
away on rum and dominoes, but I’m clear o’ them, 
thank Heaven!” 

A sudden thought seemed to enter the mind of 
Putnam at this moment, and observing that Mon- 
sieur Maret had got engaged with the old lady in a 
conversation on the merits of snuff, which he used 
inveterately, the young man asked Sammy in a 
low tone, if there were any other rooms to let in 
that house. 

“I want to find,” said he, “a nice, quiet place, 
safe from intrusion, for a young lady who has been 
and is being cruelly persecuted. And if she could 
be under the protection and friendly care of such a. 
good, kind woman as your mother and your young 
friend, Annie, it would be just the home she needs 
at present.” 

Sammy looked long and earnestly right into the 
eyes of Eldridge Putnam. The returning gaze so 
clear and confident, seemed to satisfy him, for he 
said: 

“ I know you wouldn’t impose nothin’ less pure, 
than she is on my Annie, sir, for you are a man in 
spite of your broadcloth and diamonds. Annie has 
a big room and she can have another bed put into 
it, and your friend will be as safe here as if she was 


78 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


in a church. For though the folks are all poor that 
live here, they’re honest and right. The man that 
owns the house lives in it, and he is a Christian, and 
he won’t have a drinking or swearing family under 
his roof.” 

“ Then I am only too happy that I thought of this 
asylum for one who is as dear to me as Annie is to 
you,” said Putnam. 

“ Then why don’t you hitch on to her — get mar- 
ried I mean, for you are rich enough I’m sure?” 

'“ Because she is determined to rise to a position 
equal to mine before she will consent, knowing the 
pride of my relatives,” said Putnam. “But she may 
consent when once rescued from her present en- 
thrallment.” 

“ Like as not. Bring her along, and mother and 
my Annie will be just as good as toast to her.” 

This matter settled, Putnam, with true delicacy, 
remarked that as Sammy would be laid up for some 
time and unable to earn money, he would be more 
than happy to lend him a hundred or more dollars, 
for he had more about him than he knew what to 
do with. 

The brow of Sammy darkened. 

“I know you mean well, Mr. Putnam,” said he; 
“but I’m a little bit ahead, you see, and even if I 
wasn’t, our landlord is all man, and knows me, and 
would trust me a year, if I asked it. I like you, 
and I want your friendship, but don’t talk money 
to me, for I shall feel beholden to you, and it will 
put a bar between us that I couldn’t jump a horse 
over. If ever I get where I can’t see the way clear 
for me and mother, I’ll come out honest and tell 
you, but not now. Mother has got fifty dollars of 
my money in her chest, and then I’ve got two hun- 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


79 


dred more laid up for Annie and me in the savings- 
bank. So you see we’re not down in the mouth, if 
I am laid by for a week or two.” 

So that question was settled, for the time at least, 
and Putnam saw that he must wait for other 
chances to show his friendship. 

In a little while he took his leave, with the under- 
tanding that he should get Laura Brayton away 
from the clutches of Enoch Sharp, and into a home 
with Annie Walker, just as soon as possible. 


80 


LAURA BRATTON. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

"i’m equal to it.” 

Enoch Sharp, hardened villain as he was, had 
really become terrified by the* strange, unearthly 
sounds which he had heard in his house. There 
was no natural way to account for them, and his 
guilt added to the weight of his fears. His had 
ever been a dark life — he had no redeeming points 
of memory to dwell upon. 

How bad he really was, no one earth-born but 
himself knew, for he concealed with studied hypoc- 
risy and well-feigned humility all that he could of 
his real fiend ishness. There was one who knew 
him most of all — poor Laura Brayton, for he never 
treated her well. He studied to annoy her all the 
time, and if ever he gave her a glimpse of pleasure, 
it was that she might see it snatched away the next 
instant. 

He left the house in company with Joe, but took 
a different direction as soon as they were on the 
street. He took the same course followed by Bar- 
tram the day before, and entered the porter-house 
near the basin where the latter had met the man ^ 
with the scar. Going to a table in the rear of the 
room— for it was one of that class of houses which 
is kept open all night— he called for a mug of ale 
and a sandwich. 

Then taking up a paper under pretense of read- 
ing, but really to shade his face, he sipped the ale 
very leisurely, leaving the sandwich untouched. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


81 


Nervously, out from behind this screen, he 
glanced at every new-comer who entered the place. 
They were not many. Now and then some belated 
seaman returning to his vessel, stopped in for a 
“ night-cap” before going on board, and once a 
drowsy-looking policeman stumbled in, got a 
“snifter” as a matter of official right, and went off 
without paying for it. 

An hour passed, and Enoch Sharp could not well 
stay there longer without being considered a lodger, 
or paying seat rent by ordering another glass of 
something. 

So he arose and went to the bar to pay for his ale. 
He had taken out his old, black-looking pocket- 
book, and was selecting a bill to offer, when the 
sound of a footstep at the door caused him to turn 
his head. 

He saw, for an instant their eyes meeting and 
recognizing each other, the man with the red scar 
on his face. The face disappeared in the darkness, 
and the lawyer, with an agility one could hardly 
believe him capable of, bounded after him, leaving 
his pocket-book on the counter. 

“Old limpsy is clear crazy,” cried the barkeeper, 
in wonder. “But I’m safe,” he added, as he picked 
up the well-lined pocket-book. “I wouldn’t cry if 
he never came back.” 

But Enoch Sharp did come back, nearly an hour 
afterward, looking weary and angry. 

“Did you see the man with the scar that I went 
to look after?” he asked of the barkeeper, as the 
latter handed him his pocket-book. 

“Yes,” said the barkeeper, noticing for a peculiar 
reason, with a look of relief, that the lame lawyer 


82 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


did not count the contents of the pocket-book before 
he thrust it into his pocket. 

“Does he come here often?” 

“Not very. I have seen him three or four times.” 

“What is his name?” 

“ I do not know. I heard a sailor chap one day 
call him captain.” 

“ If you’ll find out for me where he stays, so that 
I can see him without his knowing it, I’ll give you 
ten dollars.” 

“I’ll try,” said the barkeeper. 

Then Enoch Sharp buttoned up his coat and went 
away. 

“It is; it surely is Ben Hawk,” he muttered, as he 
walked along toward his own house. “ Alive, when 
I was sure that he and his secrets were buried 
together. And a deadlier foe I cannot have. He 
means evil, too, or he would not avoid me. It is 
strange that he should have fled toward my house, 
the old Withers’ homestead, when he ran away 
from my pursuit. I ran so fast that I was almost 
up to him when he vanished, as if in the air, by the 
old wall. But I will hunt him out. J oe once on his 
track and there will be no mistake. And this mys- 
terious woman. Who can she be? The dead can’t 
rise from the grave, or it might be one whom I 
might well dread. But she — she is dead. The child 
only lives of all three upon whom I swore ven- 
geance. And her doom is at hand. Linked to a 
drunkard and a gambler— one who will make life 
a curse— she will not last long. She gone, Walter 
Withers gone also, all the property mine by deeds 
and papers which no one will live to falsify, I will 
be the richest man in Baltimore ; and then — then I 
will, all hideous as they call me, place some fair 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


83 


aristocratic flower of beauty on my breast, and be- 
come a respectable member of society.” 

It was now nearly morning, and when Enoch 
Sharp re-entered his library, the rattle of marketing 
carts and the hum of an awakening city reached 
his ears. 

“ Those sounds — I cannot account for them,” he 
muttered, and then he searched every corner of the 
room, behind his bookcase and safes, looked every- 
where for some trace of personal intrusion, but he 
could find none. 

“There must be something in the belief in spirits,” 
he muttered. “This house must be haunted. For 
groans and laughter reached not only my ears, but 
those of Joe’s also. With Ben Hawk and that mys- 
terious woman alive to threaten, and ghosts besides 
to annoy me, I have a tough case on hand. But 
I’m equal to it!” 


84 


LAURA BRA YTON> 


CHAPTER XV. 

LAURA’S FLIGHT, 

It was night. Laura Brayton sat in the little 
chamber which, scantily furnished, though there 
were many large and elegant rooms in the old 
mansion, had been assigned to her. Her face, 
though somewhat thin, and marked with shadows 
of care for one so young, was now, in its look of 
pensiveness, very beautiful. 

“It is time that I heard from Eldridge Putnam,” 
she murmured. “ He will surely aid me in leaving 
this place, and in going where I can do something 
for myself— somewhere that, in honorable employ- 
ment, I can earn my own living. It is all that I 
ask. Dependence on others is the greatest misery 
which a proud, true heart can endure. Ah, there is 
his signal!” 

And the notes of a favorite air, lightly hut clearly 
whistled in the street, reached her ear. 

Instantly she took from her work-basket a ball of 
cord, such as is used for binding the edges of 
dresses, and fastening her scissors to the end as a 
weight, raised her window a little ways, and 
lowered out the cord. 

Soon a slight pull at the other end told her it had 
reached its destination, and in a moment she drew 
it up. To it was fastened a note. 

Quickly detaching the paper from the cord she 
opened the letter and read. 

“He has found a temporary home for me,” she 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


85 

murmured. “ I am to be the companion of a pure, 
good girl, whose only fault is that she has to work 
for a living. A fault? Eldridge must be speaking 
sarcastically in that. For labor is ennobling rather 
than faulty. There are no diamonds so bright as 
the drops which steal out upon the warm brow of 
honest industry. He bids me leave here secretly, 
and to be careful to leave no trace by which I can 
be followed. Even he, for a little while, will avoid 
seeing me, for fear that that fiend, Enoch Sharp, 
will have him watched to discover me. He has 
learned that Sharp holds the guardian papers which 
give him legal control over me. The wretch has 
always said so, and now Eldridge finds that they 
are registered. But he waits my answering signal. 
If I will go, I am to reply, and drop my answer 
now.” 

Quickly she took a pencil from her pocket and 
wrote : 

“Yes; have them ready to receive me. I will 
leave this house before the day dawns, and go in- 
stantly to the place you have arranged for. 

“ Laura.” 

These words on the back of his own letter were 
lowered to Eldridge Putnam, and in a few seconds 
they were in his hands. 

Then whistling the notes of a march he hastened 
away, lest some watchful eye should note his loung- 
ing about the vicinity, and report in a quarter not 
then desirable for many reasons. 

And now Laura began to arrange for flight. 
Selecting only such garments as were most neces- 
sary, she made them up in a bundle as small as pos- 
sible, so that it could be carried without attracting 


86 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


attention. A bundle of letters from Eldridge Put- 
nam were looked at with that tenderness which 
expresses more than words, and were touched with 
her lips before she -placed them in her bosom. 

Then she took up a little Bible which had been 
his gift, read a chapter in it, and kneeling, breathed 
a prayer to the Father of the fatherless for His 
guidance and protection. Then putting on a thin 
shawl, and a close hood which served materially to 
conceal her features, she took up her bundle and 
stole silently from her room. Down the old-fash- 
ioned stairs, out by a rear door into the back 
garden, and thence by a gate which she unbolted, 
into an alley, and unheard, unseen by any one, she 
believed, she was in the street. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


87 


CHAPTER XVI. 

LAURA'S FLIGHT DISCOVERED. 

Nathan Sloth answered the nervous ring of his 
master’s bell. He looked anything but smart when 
he entered the library. His eyes were red and 
sunken, his face a ghastly yellow, and he was 
shaking as if in the first stages of an ague. 

“Why liaven’tyou reported?” said his master, in 
a savage tone. “ I sent you out on business ; you 
come back and tell me nothing!” 

“ Cause why! I hadn’t nothing to tell you !” 

“ Where did the man with the scar go after he left 
Johnson’s office?” 

“ I don’t know. I watched there ever so long and 
he didn’t come out. Then I went in and asked the 
office-boy if his master didn’t want a clerk, just to 
see what was going on; and then I found out that 
the man and Lawyer Johnson had both gone into 
the house, and away from there, I heard afterward, 
in a carriage. So I lost the track and thought I 
wouldn’t say nothing till I found it again.” 

“Nathan, you’re a fool!” 

“Thank you, sir, I’d rather be a fool than a 
knave. Fools get pity, knaves get kicks.” 

“Go to your room. There will be a one-armed 
sailor here to see me soon. Send him to me when 
he comes. As soon as he is gone send Laura Bray- 
ton to me. 

“Yes, sir. There's your one-armed sailor now !” 


88 


LAURA BRATTON. 


And Nathan stared at a fellow with an empty 
sleeve by his side, and a green patch over his eye, 
who stood in the open door-way. 

“I’d just like to know how he got in, for the front 
door is locked, I know, and he has come from that 
way,” continued Nathan, aloud. 

“Through the keyhole, maybe !” said the sailor, 
with a sneer. 

“You couldn’t — the key fills it up !” muttered the 
astonished Sloth, walking* out of the room at a sign 
from his master. 

“The easiest thing to use nippers on,” said Joe, 
exhibiting a pair of keyhole nippers such as have 
been in vogue with thieves for years. 

“Have you found out where the chap is that I’m 
to send a travelin’ to unknown parts?” added Joe, 
looking at the lawyer. 

“No, lam off his track for the present. But I 
will soon be on it again, I hope. Take this card ; 
on it you will see the name and number of a porter- 
house near the basin. He goes there once in a 
while. Here is a carefully-written description of 
him. You had better watch around there for him 
till you hear from me. I will not rest until he is 
found.” 

“ All right, boss. I’ll, go there with a friend, and 
drink, and play dominoes, till he comes, or you send 
for me. So long, boss, so long.” 

And Joe turned and walked away. 

In a few minutes Nathan Sloth entered the office. 

“Where’s Miss Luara gone to?” he asked, with a 
bewildered air. “I went to call her as you told me, 
and she wasn’t down stairs, so I went up stairs. 
There was her room wide open, she not in it, nor 
no sign of her anywhere around.” 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


*9 

“Perhaps she is in the garden,” said Sharp, nerv- 
ously. “Go see, and bid her come here at once.” 

Nathan went out, and in a little while came back. 

“She has been there, and farther too!” he said. 
“The back gate is unlocked, and there’s the track 
of a little narrow foot like hers leading out through 
the muddy ally.” 

“She has gone out without my permission. It is 
the first time, and it .shall be the last. Watch for 
her till she comes in, and send her to me.” 

“Yes, sir. Anything more?” 

“Yes — keep sober to-day, or I’ll break your head 
for you. 

“I don’t see how it is, but it is a fact, that in some 
countries it never rains but it pours. And so with 
some men, they can’t drink without getting drunk. 
They can’t take a little, and then let it alone ; the 
first glass must be followed by the second, and that 
on ad infinitum , ad nauseam , until brutality or helpless- 
ness is reached, and the sot lacks capacity to swill 
more of the treacherous poison. Now Nathan is 
slow at everything but drink. Put him at that and 
he is fast as the fastest. He liked the business I 
sent him out on, as it gave him a good opportunity 
to follow his favorite recreation. But I must think 
of Laura Brayton. She is getting more and more 
rebellious,” muttered Sharp, with an angry gesture. 
“She must be got rid of at once. I am sorry I gave 
her even a day to prepare for marrying Bartram. 
It might have been managed more speedily. I wish 
Bartram was here. There must be no delay on his 
part.” 

“Mr. Jack Bartram is below,” said Nathan Sloth, 
poking his ungainly face in at the door. 


90 


LAURA BRATTON. 


“ Send him here. He is the very man I wanted to 
see.” 

In another minute the gambler stood in the room. 

“Sit down. Satan is kind,” said Sharp, with a 
smile. 

“He ought to be to his friends, and I’m sure he 
hasn’t any better one, or more useful, than Enoch 
Sharp.” 

There was a cynical sneer on the face of Bartram 
as he spoke. 

“ Friend or not, he never deserts me in my need. 
I wanted to see you. I wish you to be ready for 
matrimony to-night. I have made up my mind not 
to delay a matter of such importance any longer. 
Do you hear?” 

“Yes; not being deaf, I can’t well help hearing. 
And, as I came to tell you, I got cleaned out at faro 
last night, and haven’t a greenback left, so I’m 
in the humor to do anything that pays. I met Joe 
just now, and though I never ‘know’ him on the 
street, a look from him told me that he was flush of 
funds, and I thought maybe you was in a generous 
mood.” 

“Well, marry her, and twenty thousand dollars 
lay ready for you. How soon you spend* it I care 
not. But remember, it is all you get with her. If 
you lose it, or throw it away, and bring her to want, 
it is your business, not mine.” 

“Yes. Well, let me see the money. I’ll make 
one splurge when I get it. I’ll be a big fish in the 
muddy sea of life for a while. See if I don’t.” 

“Of course!” 

“What I am you helped to make me,” said Bar- 
tram, sullenly; “and if I ever redden my hands 
with blood again, I know whose it will be.” 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


91 


“Fool! I do not care that for your threats!” and 
the lawyer snapped his fingers contemptuously. 
“ Why, if harm comes to me from any source, and 
one particular friend misses se'eing me for only 
four-and- twenty hours, sealed papers will be opened 
which will give a full account, with the proofs, of 
every crime you have done. Why, the dungeon 
and the gallows would both be yours in less time 
than it would take to write and print your life and 
dying confession.” 

“Well, a man can’t die but once,” said Bartram, 
sullenly. “ I don’t know as it matters much how he 
goes, so he slips off easy.” 

“They don’t hang folks easy now,” said Sharp, 
with a sneer. “ They generally choke ’em by de- 
grees, instead of breaking their necks. But I’ve no 
doubt you’ll understand the system experimentally 
all in good time. As soon as that girl comes in I’ll 
have her in here, and send for a parson or a magis- 
trate. She has got to come to it, or I’ll murder her!” 

There was a savage earnestness in the words of 
Sharp, as he fairly hissed them out, which startled 
Bartram, world-hardened as he was. 

“ Sit down, and read law, or smoke — do anything 
to pass time, until she comes in. I have some 
papers to draw up.” 

And the lawyer darted off to a desk and went to 
writing with a speed which soon filled several 
pages of legal foolscap. 

An hour passed, and he was done. 

“The foul fiend take that girl! I wonder why she 
stays out so long. I must see to i^!” cried Sharp. 
“Stay here till I come back!” 

And he limped, or rather, hopped away from the 
room. 


92 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“I HAVE CAUSED YOU MUCH SORROW.” 

The interview between the man with the red scar 
and the celebrated lawyer, whom Enoch Sharp’s 
clerk had named as Mr. Johnson, must have been 
one of considerable importance, for after an hour or 
more the lawyer took his visitor into his house by a 
rear entrance from his office, and ordering his car- 
riage to the door, soon after left in it with his 
visitor, telling his coachman to take him to the 
villa of Mr. Walter Withers in the suburbs of the 
city. 

To get into the merits of the story and gather up 
its mysteries, the reader must also visit Mr. Withers, 
who once before, and once only, has been met 
with in our story. 

Mr. Withers received his visitors in an invalid- 
chair, for he felt languid and miserable that day, 
felt, as he had expressed himself to Sharp when he 
called on him about making his will, as if his stay 
on earth was not to be a prolonged one. 

“How are you, Mr. Johnson? Glad to see you 
looking well, though my time here below is about 
up. Care and trouble have nearly finished me, and 
I will soon be free from them. Sit down, sir, you 
and your friend, and excuse my rising.” 

“Certainly, Mr. Withers,” said the lawyer, who 
though past middle age, was yet brisk and lively in 
looks and manner. “ But you, my dear sir, must 


LAURA BRATTON. 


93 


not think of dying ; we may hope you have years 
of life, perhaps of happiness, before you.” 

“Not of happiness, even if the thread of life yet 
holds together,” said Mr. Withers, with a sigh. “I 
am a lonely old man, Mr. Johnson, a lonely old 
man. Not a relative near enough in kin to care for 
anything but the property I leave ; not a being to 
love of my own blood. What indeed have I to live 
for? 

“More, perhaps, than you are now aware of. 
You had a dear brother, he had a wife and child.” 

“Yes. Do you mention them to harrow my feel- 
ings? Is it not enough for me to think of them as 
dead?” 

“We have reason to think that all of them are not 
dead. Do not start, or get nervous — excitement will 
only injure you. But I hope it will be my pleasure 
and satisfaction ere long to bring you face to face 
with one, perhaps two, of those whom you have 
mourned as dead.” 

“Mr. Johnson, do not trifle with the feelings of 
an old man trembling before the portals of the 
tomb.” 

“Mr. Withers, I know you too well, esteem you 
too highly, to trifle for an instant with your feel- 
ings.” 

“Then it is true! it is true! Yet how can it be? 
There were proofs that Annie Withers and her 
child perished in a fearful storm; Sharp showed 
them to me. My poor brother went wild over them 
— went we know not whither, and he must be dead 
or long since he would have sent me some word, 
some token of his existence, for he knew how I 
loved him.” 

“We have no tidings from him,” said Mr. John- 


94 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


son. “ But when you calmly read the papers which 
we will leave with you, you will peruse a history 
that is wonderful, yet true. And if after reading it 
you will join us in a plan to recover the property 
which a wretch now wrongfully enjoys, to punish 
a fiend in human shape, to restore those who are 
therein named to their rightful positions in life, to 
unite those who have been long kept apart, you 
will find that you have much yet to live for and to 
hope for.” 

And as Mr. Johnson said this, he arose and handed 
Mr. Withers a package of papers. 

“Take your time in their perusal, my dear sir. We 
have considerable yet to do before you can take a 
part in our work, and then when we are ready we 
will see if we cannot make you feel that, here in 
your noble home you are not alone.” 

“You are bringing new life into my veins, Mr. 
Johnson, already. Hope is a precious word. It 
starts a fire where there were only ashes and 
embers.” 

And the languid eyes of the old man grew 
brighter, and a flash lighted up his sallow cheek. 

“Will you have refreshments, gentlemen? You 
have not introduced me to your friend, Mr. John- 
son ; yet it seems to me as if I had seen him before.” 

“You shook hands with me once, sir, and said 
God bless you; I have never forgotten it,” said the 
man with the scar. “But when you read the papers 
you’ll know my name. I was a villain when you 
asked God to bless me, but you didn’t know it, sir. 
I’ve caused you much sorrow, but I am trying to 
redeem it so far as I can— my past evil I mean.” 

“Why, you were once a sea-captain, were you 
not, and you know all about ” 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


95 


“All I know, all I have done, all that I am doing 
now, is there written down, sir.” 

And the man, rising, pointed to the papers. 

“And we will leave you to their perusal,” said 
Mr. Johnson. “Do not get excited. Tell no one 
living of what you learn, and I will come to you 
often to talk over the matter and push on our plans. 
Good-day, my dear Mr. Withers, good-day.” 


96 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 
laura’s new home. 

Heat— the very essence of neatness. You might 
know that it was the abode of innocence and purity 
at a glance. Yet the room had very little furniture, 
very little ornament in it. There was a small table, 
covered with a white cloth, with two snow-white 
plates and cups and saucers for two on it. A single 
loaf of bread, a plate of cold sliced meat, a tiny 
plate of butter, were also to be seen. A small, the 
very smallest-sized cooking-stove, polished until it 
could have well served for a mirror, stood on one 
side, and on it stood a tea-kettle, steaming hot, and 
a little Britannia tea-pot which shone like silver. 
There were only six chairs in the room, a small 
work-stand, a box to contain coal, and another for 
kindling-wood. A wooden water-pail, with brass 
hoops bright enough to pass for gold, stood in one 
corner. On the ledge of the only window which 
opened on a dreary mass of brick — a huge ware- 
house it seemed in the rear — were three flower-pots, 
each containing a little rosebush in bloom. The 
floor had no carpet on it, but it was as white almost 
as the table-cloth. One corner of the room was 
curtained off, but between the center of the two 
curtains, a little drawn apart, one could get a 
glimpse of two little cot beds, each covered with a 
white counterpane. The reader sees no one in this 
room, for if there was we could not pause to par • 
ticularize so closely. 


LAURA BliAYTON. 


97 


But voices are heard, sweet, ringing voices, and 
in an instant a young girl of fine face and figure, 
neatly but very plainly dressed, enters, and our 
golden-haired friend, Annie Walker, appears. She 
is followed by Laura Brayton. 

“Now, what do you think of my Sammy? Isn’t 
he a glorious good fellow? Such hair and such 
eyes, and so good to his mother, too. What do you 
think of him?” cried the first comer. 

“ I think, Miss Annie ” 

“Now, Laura, we’re to be like sisters, so stop put- 
ting that miss to my name. Call me Annie, and 
tell me what you think of my Sammy’s eyes.” 

“ I think I never saw eyes which could speak so 
well. Love for you was uttered in every glance of 
them.” 

“That’s so, Laura, that’s so. He loves me, and 1 
love him, and there is no rubbing it out. And his 
hair — isn’t it real nice?” 

“Yes, it looked so after you combed it back from 
his white forehead.” 

“And then he loves his mother, and never lets her 
want for anything. A good son must make a good 
husband. Don’t you think so?” 

“He ought to,” said Laura, with a little sigh. 

“There, there, dear, don’t sigh. I’ll not talk so 
much about Sammy if it makes you sigh. But I 
love him so much ! And now, Laura, let us have 
breakfast. It is so much comfort to have you here 
to breakfast with me. I begin to feel it already. 
And yet this will be our first meal together. I’ll 
try to have it nicer to-morrow. But I had so little 
time to fix for you.” 

“Do not speak of it, dear Annie. If here lam 
safe from persecution, if here I can arrange my 


98 


LAURA BRAYTQN. 


plans to earn an honorable living., and to rise above 
dependence and want, 1 shall be only too happy.” 

“ Why that young man, my Sammy’s friend, 
loves you, and means to marry you, and he is rich!” 
said Annie, wondering why Laura should for a 
moment think of other means of rising, C'side from 
honorable matrimony. 

“ Yes, but I do not mean to marry him while I am 
dependent and poor. Annie, I am proud in spirit. 
I yearn to be independent !” 

“That is right, Laura. That is just like me. 
Sammy wanted me to live with his mother, for 
nothing, just for company’s sake. ‘Nosiree!’ said 
I, That isn’t me, Sammy!’ I can earn a living and 
lay up a little besides. And now sit down and eat, 
if there isn’t enough on the table, there is more in 
the closet.” 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


99 


CHAPTER XIX. 

“i’ll fight to the last!” 

For over an hour Bartram sat in the library of 
Enoch Sharp, wondering what kept him away so 
long. At last the lawyer came back. His face was 
white with anger. 

“The girl has eloped; left the house. I know it 
now, for on examination I find a good part of her 
clothing gone. She must have left in the night, for 
her bed is not disturbed in any way. I expect that 
fellow, Eldridge Putnam, has decoyed her away. 
But I have put a detective at work. He will be 
watched and she discovered, and then I can legally 
claim and hold her until I give her up to you!” 

The lawer was choking with rage while he made 
this statement. Bartram took it very coolly, and 
remarked that he didn’t care what became of her, 
if he only had the money which was to come with 
her. 

“Without you are married to her you will never 
receive a cent,” said Sharp. 

“ Then trot her along — the sooner the better, for 
as I told you before I am dead broke.” 

“ Help to find her. Hunt the city over. Get on 
her track, or on that of the man with the red scar, 
and you shall have all the money you need for 
present purposes.” 

“Well, I’ll try. I’ll make nothing by staying 
here.” 


100 


LAURA BRATTON. 


And he arose to leave. Just as he went out a 
young man entered whom Enoch Sharp had seen at 
court with Lawyer Johnson, and whom he knew to 
be a clerk in his office. 

He held a paper in his hand which he extended, 
with the remark : 

“I have been ordered to serve this notice on you, 
Mr. Sharp.” 

“Well, what does all this mean?” exclaimed the 
lawyer, angrily, as he read the precept. “Who are 
the parties who bring this suit? I want some name, 
or names, besides this general term, ‘the heirs’— 
that will never stand. Tell Johnson I say so. I 
will not respond to any paper like that. I will not, 

I say !” 

The clerk turned to leave, remarking, quietly : 

“I have served the notice; your future action is 
not for me to discuss.” 

Alone, the lawyer looked again and again over 
the paper that he had just received. And the more 
he looked and pondered, the less did he seem satis- 
fied. 

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Johnson is too 
keen to work on uncertainties. A big retainer and 
a plausibly fair case only will enlist him. I have 
got work to do. Ben Hawk must be found, and 
when found, be taken care of. He is one of the 
parties in this matter, and the woman he has been 
seen with is another. But they are not heirs, nor 
in any way related. Who can they be? For once I 
am in the dark. But I’ll fight; I’ll fight to the last. 
No compromise for me. Neither Johnson nor any 
one else but Ben Hawk knows anything about 
Laura. It must be he— yet he would only criminate 
himself if he pretended to make her an heir. Oh, 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


101 


if I only had him by the throat, I’d choke the truth 
out of him first and the life afterward!” 

And the long, talon-like fingers of the lawyer 
worked convulsively, as if he had his wished-for 
victim by the neck in truth. 

Then he rang the bell for Nathan Sloth. It was 
answered instantly, almost. 

“Nathan,” said he, “have you ever heard any 
strange sounds about this house at night?” 

“No, sir, nothing more than rats and mice, gnaw- 
ing in the ceiling or running between the walls.” 

“ No groans, no laughing, no talking, when you 
couldn’t tell where it came from?” 

“Mercy! no, sir. Why, what do you mean, sir? 
You’re not getting light here?” 

And the clerk raised his inky forefinger to his 
head. 

“No, but I’ve heard sounds lately which make me 
nervous. If I believed in ghosts I’d think the house 
was haunted.” 

“Oh, don’t say that, sir. For I know there is 
ghosts, sir, I saw one once. Why, sir. I was nearly 
scared to death at it. And if I thought this house 
was haunted I’d be afraid to sleep here.” 

“Coward! If it was haunted and old Satan him- 
self was chief of the spirits, I wouldn’t be scared 
out of it.” 

“Oh, you are brave, sir. I don’t pretend to be 
when ghosts are out. I’m a mortal coward, and I, 
know it.” 

“Well, well. To-night, well-armed, you and I will 
sit up all night here in the library and see if the 
sounds continue.” 

“Oh, dear, sir! I’d rather not! I know I’ll get to 
sleep, and if I heard or saw a ghost, I'd die, sure!” 


102 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“Then there would be one fool less to destroy the 
world’s substance. Your loss would be survived 
without a shock.” 

“ Maybe ; but if I died of fright, the papers would 
call it a shocking case. If I must stay, I must have 
all the brandy I can drink.” 

“ A bottle full, if you want. And now go and get 
my letters from the office, and return. Keep your 
eyes open when in the street. Should you see the 
man with the red scar, never lose sight of him until 
you find where he lives.” 

Nathan nodded his ungainly head, and left the 
room. 

Then the lawyer went to his safe, or to the smaller 
of the two in the room, and opening it, took out a 
package of papers, old in look. Unbinding these, 
he looked them over one by one, seeming much 
interested in their contents. 

“If Johnson had all these to work with, he might 
make a show!” he muttered, at last, as he rebound 
the bundle and put it back. “He can’t do anything 
with me in court without them, and I will take good 
care they are never seen there!” 

After closing his safe, he put on his hat and 
again went out in the street. 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


103 


CHAPTER XX. 
laura’s retreat discovered. 

Weeks are like years sometimes. A whole life- 
time of memory, it is said, will sweep on the mind 
of a drowning man ; and what changes are made 
on the ocean of life in a few brief days, the change 
from calm to storm, from safety to wreck and ruin! 
But I have no occasion now to moralize, or look 
into philosophy. 

A space of three weeks finds many alterations in 
our drama of Baltimore life. We will note them 
rapidly. 

Almost a shadow of his former ugly self, his face 
thinner, sharper, more fiendish than ever, his eyes 
deep-sunken in his head, so nervous that he started 
at every sound, Enoch Sharp sat in his library. As 
he looked frequently toward the door, impatience 
expressed in his glance, it would be inferred that 
he was expecting some one. 

Suddenly, without noise, the door opened, and Joe 
glided in. 

“Well?” in a tone of inquiry, was all that the 
lawyer said. 

“What do you say w r ell for, when nothin’ goes 
well, boss? I never was so long on a track before. 
You are bewitched, your house is haunted, and I’m 
getting as good-for-nothing as a woman’s last year’s 
bonnet.” 

Joe growled out these words. 


104 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


“No trace of that Ben Hawk yet?” asked Sharp, 
moodily. 

“Traces enough, but nary chance to get a claw 
on him. He’d never get time to squeak if I could 
once get in reach of him. He seems to know all 
about me. He has sent me a dozen different mes- 
sages to meet me here and there, and every time 
I’m fooled. I don’t like it. I’ve spent my time, 
and your money, and haven’t nothing to show for 
it. That isn’t my style.” 

“I don’t blame you,” said Sharp, in the same 
moody, disheartened tone. “ I too have been foiled 
for the first time in my life on every hand. The 
girl whom I have raised under this roof for only 
one object, to crown the vengeance of a life-time, 
has escaped from my hands, and the best detective 
in the city has failed to find her. All in the dark 
as to whom I really am to battle with, I am drawn 
into law by one of the keenest and strongest lawyers 
in the country, and an amount claimed from me 
which would make me a beggar if I were defeated. 
I seem to meet everything in the dark of late. 
That this house is haunted, I know. I will not 
leave it. Groans, and clanking chains, and clammy 
hands upon my hot and feverish face, and horrible 
dreams terrify me, but they shall not drive me 
away. But sit down, Joe, I must look at my papers. 
I have a demurrer to draw up.” 

The lawyer arose from his chair, and limping, 
rather than hopping as he used to do, to his safe, 
took out a package of papers from one of the 
pigeon-holes. 

Returning to his table he untied the red tape 
which bound the bundle. 

“Heavens!” he screamed, fairly leaping from his 


LAURA BRATTON. 


105 


chair, as he opened the first paper. “I am ruined! 
The originals gone, and copies substituted! Who 
on earth can have gotten into my safes? Never are 
the keys out of my pocket. Yet some one has been 
here. They have all been changed!” 

And he examined paper after paper with the same 
result. 

“ Opening safes isn’t werry hard work when one 
can get a minute’s time to examine the locks and 
take an impression,” said Joe, dryly. “I could have 
been in them safes long ago, if I had wanted to. I 
took the gage of the locks the first time I was ever 
in the room, while you went to get something to eat 
and drink.” 

“You have never been there; the money is un- 
touched, and the papers were nothing to you,” said 
Sharp, subsiding down into gloom again. 

“I know I haven’t been there, boss, for so far 
you’ve acted square to me, and I’m not going to 
buck against you because luck does. No, sir — that 
isn’t my style. I stick, I does.” 

A third person entered the room. His face, usually 
so dull and stupid, was all aglow with excitement. 
His gray eyes fairJy blazed. 

“I’m slow, ain’t I?” he cried, addressing the 
lawyer. 

“ Slow by name and nature, too, in everything but 
feeding and drinking,” said Sharp, with a sneer. 

“Slow and sure — yes, sir, sure!” cried Nathan 
Sloth, in an exultant tone. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve got news, good news, big news, but I’ve got 
to be paid for it. Yes, sir; yes, Mr. Enoch Sharp, 
when I do what all your detectives can’t do I’ve got 
to be paid for it.” 


106 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“What have you done?” asked Sharp, eagerly, for 
he began to believe that Nathan really had some- 
thing important to disclose. 

“ I’ve been and gone and found out where Miss 
Laura lives!” cried Nathan, loudly. 

“ Where — where?” gasped Sharp, springing from 
his chair. 

“ Hand out the greenbacks, or nary a time will I 
tell,” cried Nathan, feeling that for the first time in 
his life he was master of his master. 

“You want a little bit o’ squeezing, don’t you, 
young ’un?” growled Joe, springing like a tiger on 
Nathan and clutching his long, bony fingers about 
his throat. 

“That’s it. Choke it out of him. The dog, to 
think that I must fee him, for doing his duty!” cried 
Sharp. 

Poor Nathan struggled feebly. But Joe was a 
giant in strength — the miserable clerk was a child 
in his grasp. His eyes and tongue protruded, a 
purple hue darkened his face ; he could not breathe. 

Joe relaxed his pressure a little to give Nathan a 
chance to speak if he would. 

“Do you give in, quill-driver? Do you give in?” 
he growled. 

Nathan gasped, got in a breath, and then gasped 
out: 

“I’ll die first!” 

“Good— you’re game, you are. But I’ve had just 
such chickens afore. I’ll choke you some, but roast 
you more. Boss, lock your door inside and then 
light a lamp.” 

Sharp hurried to obey, while Joe held Nathan so 
that he could neither move nor make a noise. The 
door was locked and the lamp lighted. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


107 


“Now, boss, just hold the blaze of that lamp right 
under the hollow of the quill-driver’s hand — the left 
hand here, so ’twon’t hurt his business.” 

Sharp did so, and a quiver of agony ran through 
the body of the helpless clerk as the skin cracked 
and snapped in the heat. 

Again Joe relaxed his hold slightly, cautioning 
his victim not to scream, or he’d choke the life 
right out of him. 

“Will you give in row?” he asked. 

“Yes — for mercy’s sake, stop — yes!” moaned poor 
Nathan. 

The ruffian relaxed his grasp, and Sharp set the 
lamp on the table. But Joe still retained his hold 
on the form and throat, ready to tighten it if the 
clerk did not fully yield. 

“ She is living with a young girl who works in a 
book-bindery. I met her out in the street, all vailed 
and cloaked up, but I knew her walk, and her foot, 
and her voice, and I followed her home. I’ve tried 
to see which room she lives in, but I haven’t got to 
that yet. I can, maybe, by hiring a room in the 
house.” 

“Are you telling the truth, Nathan?” asked 
Sharp, sternly. 

“Yes, sir — so help me Bob! What’s the use in 
my lying now? Choking is rough, and burning is 
worserer yet!” 

“Let him go, Joe. If he tells the truth we will 
soon know it. I have a legal right to the girl. I 
will get a warrant, and an officer to execute it, and 
go after her myself. Nathan, you will go with me 
as a guide. If you have not told the truth, it will 
be the worse for you. If you have, I will give 
you ” 


108 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“What?” gasped Nathan, looking at his blistered 
hand tearfully. 

“A holiday,” said Sharp, with a dry laugh. “And 
then,” he added, “if you spend it right and are 
lucky enough to find the man with the red scar, I’ll 
give you ” 

“ Another holiday, I s’pose,” groaned poor Nathan, 
with a look of wretchedness. 

“Yes, and fifty dollars to spend on it, too,” said 
Sharp. 

“ Good ! good ! I’ve had the luck to find her, and 
I’ll find him. I’ll work for fifty dollars — oh, how 
I’ll work, for that is more money than I ever had of 
my own.” 

“Go to your old quarters, Joe, and wait till you 
hear from me,” said the lawyer. “I reckon I can 
manage this case alone.” 

“I’m short o’ money!” said the ruffian, slapping 
his hand down over his pocket. “Doin’ nothin’ and 
payin’ my board in a ’otel, counts up, not to think 
of the drinks a fellow has to take when he isn’t at 
work.” 

Sharp sighed, but he pulled out his pocket-book, 
selected a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to Joe. 

Nathan sighed also as he saw the money passed, 
and as Joe went out he muttered : 

“That was his pay for choking me. I’d have told 
all I knew for half of it. But I’ll be even with him 
yet— see if I don’t. I hope I’ll see him hung yet.” 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


109 


CHAPTER XXI. 

DISCUSSING PROSPECTS. 

Three weeks of hope ; three weeks of that pleas- 
ant excitement which hope brings with it. What a 
wonderful change it will make in some persons. 

One would hardly recognize Mr. Withers, as he 
received Lawyer Johnson and friend in his front 
parlor, on a second visit. He looked younger by 
years. His face had color, his eye had fire, his 
step, as he advanced to shake hands, was elastic 
and vigorous. 

“I am glad, very glad to see you, Mr. Johnson, 
and you, too, Captain Hawk, and I say once more, 
‘Heaven bless you/ for you are acting like a man 
now and blotting out all the past. But when— 
when am I to see the dear ones?” 

“Hot yet, Mr. Withers — not quite yet, for we wish 
to keep them out of sight until we spring our trap. 
Our enemy is powerful yet, wary, remorseless, and 
cruel, and no life will stand between him and his 
aims if it can be reached by gold or by cunning. 
Our safety and our success in the main object — re- 
covering all the property he has gorged — require 
care and secrecy yet. We know you will be patient, 
when success is sure at last to crown our efforts.” 

“Yes, yes, this has been a wonderful affair. 
Providence has been in it ail. You, Captain Hawk, 
were prevented by Providence from becoming a 
cruel murderer, when you really thought you were 
one,” 


110 


LAURA BRATTON. 


“Alas, alas, I was and am one; for though some 
lives were spared, others were lost through my 
criminal intention.” 

“Never mind, you are nobly redeeming yourself. 
Providence spared you from the assassin’s knife, 
and Providence has guided you in the only way to 
convert wrong into right.” 

“ And I hope Providence will carry us all 
through,” said Mr. Johnson, brushing back the 
white hair from his forehead. “ My agent, employed 
to watch this wretch, Enoch Sharp, informs me he 
has been here to call on you. We thought we would 
call and learn what his object was.” 

“ It was to see if I was connected with the suit 
you have instituted — or, as you lawyers would say, 
to ‘pump me’ and see what he could gain,” replied 
Mr. Withers. 

“Did he have any success?” asked the lawyer. 

“None. Warned by you, as well as prepared in 
my own mind how to act, I did not appear to under- 
stand any of his hints, and made no reply which 
would lead him to think I had any idea of any suit 
being on the tapis. He then asked me about my 
belief in ghosts, and I laughed at him. He said if I 
had heard as much as he had that I’d not laugh 
much. I told him I had a clear conscience, and 
that was a sure safeguard against ghostly visitants.” 

Captain Hawk laughed dryly. 

“Ghosts would be the death of him, if it were not 
written that he should die on a rope,” he remarked. 

“When will the suit come on?” asked Mr. Withers. 

“On the third day from this, and then in open 
court you will receive and recognize those who will 
yet make life a pleasure to you,” said Mr. Johnson. 

“Three days! To one who expects to die, how 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


Ill 


short a time! To one who wants to live and who 
lives in anxious expectancy, how long ! But I will 
be patient.” 

“Do so, my dear sir, and you will be officially 
notified when we want you.” 

“Thanks, my dear Mr. Johnson — many thanks. 
And also to you, Captain Hawk — Heaven bless 
you!” 


112 


LAURA BRAY TOR. t 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A LEGAL ABDUCTION. 

Laura Brayton, if not happy, was at peace and 
hopeful. For over three weeks she had dwelt in 
happy quiet with Annie Walker, only going out 
with her on two occasions in all that time, and then 
so closely vailed that she did not think any one 
who had ever met her before would recognize her. 
Annie had instructed her in a part of the art of 
book-binding, and each night the true-hearted girl 
brought home to her companion work to occupy 
her during the next day, carrying with her each 
morning that which Laura had finished. Thus 
Laura had been able to realize one of her dreams — 
that of being competent to earn her own frugal 
support. 

It was near noon— a quiet day. Sammy Glenn 
was now well enough to be absent at his daily 
labor. Annie always remained absent from half- 
past six in the morning until the same hour in the 
evening, without for some special reason she had 
permission to carry work home for a day or so. 
Laura had made no acquaintances beyond the 
Glenn family and her room-mate, whom she already 
dearly loved. 

Notes had frequently reached her from Eldridge 
Putnam, but he had not called on her, for he had 
discovered that his steps were continually followed 
by a detective, and at once concluded who had put 


LAURA BRATTON. 


113 


a watch upon him and what was its purpose. 
Therefore, for his own gratification he would not 
compromise her safety. 

Have you ever felt, when the sky was cloudless 
and nature seemed rosy with smiles, a sudden, 
almost undefinable chill come over the atmosphere, 
which instantly told you, from past experience, 
though you could see no signs of it, that a storm 
was close at hand, which would soon wrap the 
earth in darkness and in tears? 

Just so, at times, an unknown, chfiling dread of 
some portending evil creeps on our mind, almost as 
surely to be followed by some grief, some storm to 
ruffle the sea of life. 

And Laura Brayton, when she sat eating her cold 
lunch, for she would build no fire until it was nearly 
time for Annie to return, felt just such an ominous 
chill. 

“Can it be that sickness or death is to reach me, 
or him whom I love more than myself?” she mur- 
mured. 

And even while her red lips quivered with the 
whispered words, her door was thrown rudely open, 
and Enoch Sharp, with a policeman in uniform, ac- 
companied by Nathan Sloth, and followed by the 
old gentleman who owned the house, entered the 
room. 

“Undutiful girl, thus to hide away from your 
almost broken-hearted guardian,” cried Sharp, in a 
sniveling tone. “How wretched you have made 
me, fearing you had been enticed into some of the 
horrible dens of infamy which yawn to ingulf the 
pure and innocent in this great city. Thank Heaven 
you have been under the roof of a good Christian 
man, where, as I hear, no harm could re&ch you ; 


114 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


where even the wretch who induced you to leave 
your home dared not come!” 

“Eldridge Putnam is no wretch!” cried poor 
Laura, indignantly, not seeing the cunning trap 
which Sharp laid to get from her the name of the 
one who had helped her out of his clutches. 

“ There, you hear, sir, how she attempts to defend 
the unprincipled wretch who decoyed her from my 
house. Had I not instantly, on discovering her ab- 
sence, put a watch on him, she would doubtless 
have been his victim ere this time. But, poor, 
deluded girl, you shall be protected now. Come, 
Laura, come, I will forgive you all ; come back to 
your home, and to the care of your fond old guard- 
ian. I promised your dying mother never to desert 
her helpless child, and I will not!” 

And the hypocritical wretch actually drew out his 
dirty cotton handkerchief to conceal his tears. 

Mrs. Glenn now, attracted by the noise, made her 
appearance. 

With eyes streaming in tears poor Laura sobbed 
out: 

“ Oh, Mrs. Glenn, do save me from that dreadful 
man!” 

And she pointed to Sharp, whose eyes, dried in an 
instant by the tire of anger, flashed a baleful hate, 
as he said : 

“ My good woman, no interference on your part is 
necessary. I am the lawful guardian of this for- 
ward girl, have a warrant to take her with me, and 
an officer to enforce my claim.” 

“Oh, how I wish my Sammy was here! He’d 
know what to do,” said the old lady, in great dis- 
tress. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


115 


For slie had already learned to love Laura, seeing 
so much of her with Annie. 

“Come, I have no time to wait! Laura, get 
ready!” said Sharp. 

“ Oh, sir ! you will not let him drag me away from 
here ! I do not want to go with him. He is a had 
man, and only seeks to make me wretched.” 

Laura made this appeal to the landlord. 

He was a good man. Her innocent looks, her sobs 
and tears, all told in her favor, and touched his 
heart, but Sharp had not only told a specious story, 
but had exhibited papers of such legal strength, 
that, had he been inclined to listen to the appeal of 
the poor girl, he dared not do it. 

So the good man only shook his head, and said: 

“Poor child ! I pity you!” 

“ Come, come ! Either gather up your clothes or 
leave them. I will not trifle!” cried Sharp. “A 
carriage is at the door to take you home, or, if you 
resist my authority, to prison!” 

Poor Laura! There was something terrible in 
that threat to her. 

Pale, her tears drying up in the intense heat of 
her agony, she silently tied up her few dresses, and 
kissing the weeping mother of Sammy Glenn, pre- 
pared to follow her inhuman persecutor. 

“Tell dear Annie how wretched it makes me to 
leave her!” sobbed Laura, and she was gone. 

“Oh! if my Sammy was only here, that wouldn’t 
have been!” said the good old woman, as she went 
back to her own room. 


116 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

BAD NEWS. 

Eldridge Putnam had left his address with Sam- 
my Glenn so that the fireman could at any time 
communicate with him if it was deemed necessary. 
Therefore, early in the evening of the day when 
poor Laura Bray ton had been taken away from her 
temporary home, young Putnam was startled by 
the sudden appearance of Glenn in his room, the 
latter not even waiting for the servant who opened 
the outer door to announce him. 

As the young man was engaged in a game of 
fc chess with Monsieur Maret, he merely said : 

“How are you, my good friend? Take a seat.” 

“Not till I’ve told you what’s up!” cried Sammy, 
his face all aglow from haste. “ And I reckon you 
won’t sit long after you’ve heard it. Your gal is 
gone !” 

“ Laura gone ! What do you mean?” 

“Why, that mean, limpin’ lawyer came with an 
officer to-day, and a warrant, and claimed her, and 
carried her off right before my mother, and the 
landlord, too, and they couldn’t help it. And my 
Annie is almost crazy about it. She says you’re no 
man if you don’t get Laura right away from the 
wretch ; and you may bet your life what my Annie 
says, is so!” 

Putnam was on his feet in an instant, and ex- 
claimed : 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


117 


“So Sharp has got her in his power again! 
Heavens! this must be seen to at once! Law or no 
law, right or no right, he shall not keep her against 
her will! I’ll rescue her, or die !” 

“That’s the way to take it!” cried Sammy, in 
delight. “ That’s the way Gus Adams used to do 
when he made Rome howl down at the old Holiday! 
I’ll help you, and get some of the boys, too, if you 
want ’em. Shall we go and storm his castle? Shall 
we go and drag old Sharp out and wash him in the 
basin?” 

“ I propose zat you permit me to shallenge him to 
combat!” said Monsieur Maret, anxious to be of 
service. “I shall keel him wizout ze difficultee. I 
am expert wiz ze rapier. Permit me, mon cher ami!” 

“No, I will take all upon myself, while I thank 
you both, my good friends, for your kind offers,” 
said Putnam, hastily. “I will go at once to the 
office or house of this devil, Sharp, and demand her. 
Yet that would be useless. He has legal claims to 
her guardianship, I have none! Cunning must 
usurp the place of force.” 

“Money will do almost anything,” said Sammy 
Glenn. “Why not try that?” 

“I will, but on whom? Sharp is rich, money will 
not buy him. But that clerk of his might be ap- 
proached. It will not do for me to be seen by him, 
or to be seen near the house without I go for de- 
cisive, forcible action.” 

“I’ll see him,” said Sammy. “I’ll make an excuse 
of some kind, and draw him out where you can talk 
to him.” 

“Do, and we may effect something through him,” 
said Putnam. “If the worst comes to the worst, 
however, I will snatch her from the grasp of that 


118 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


wretch, if blood is the consequence. Her peril 
makes me desperate. Go to see the clerk at once, 
Sammy, and if anything can be done, return and let 
me know. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


119 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

A SECRET FRIEND . 

Unresistingly, for she knew that alone she was 
powerless, Laura Brayton returned with Enoch 
Sharp to his house. As soon as she was safe he 
dismissed the officer who had been a cover to his 
proceedings. He sent Nathan to his desk in the 
copying-room. Then he took Laura into a strong- 
room which adjoined, and was inside from his own 
office. 

“Now, girl, you are safe, for the present. Why 
did you leave my house?” 

“Because I saw no safety from persecution here.” 

“And Eldridge Putnam helped you away from 
here.” 

“It is false. I went alone.” 

“Girl, you forget your acknowledgment when 
defending his reputation at yonder tenement-house.” 

“I forget nothing. You slandered him, and I re- 
futed your falsehoods.” 

“Frail fool! Do you know I could strangle you 
with a hearty good-will!” 

“I doubt not your desire, but you dare not harm 
me. Men, and devils in the shape of men, are hung 
for murder!” 

“Not always. Many a crime lays hidden in the 
earth or under the water! Girl, did I not wish to 
punish you more severely, you should not live an 
hour. As it is, your conduct only hastens your 


120 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


doom. I leave you here a little while. When 1 re- 
turn, your future husband, Jake Bartram, will be 
with me. This night you wed him! Remember, 
you cannot escape. The iron grates and the shutter 
of ’that single window will defy you in that direc- 
tion. This oaken door, studded with bolts and 
crossing bars will be double-locked upon you. I 
leave you to your reflections. Be merry, girl, be 
merry, for this will be your bridal eve.” 

And with a mocking laugh the fiendish wretch 
clanged to the door and fastened it. 

“Oh, Heaven, have mercy on me!” moaned poor 
Laura, her courage at last giving way, and tears 
raining in showers from her eyes. 

“Be firm and fear not! Heaven will help you!” 
said a low, gentle voice, thrilling like a soft echo 
into her very heart. 

“Who spoke? Surely I heard an angel!” cried 
Laura, in wild surprise, looking around the gloomy 
room, scarcely furnished at all, and wondering, for 
she could see no one. 

“Be firm and fear not. Ask no more. Friends 
are near who will not see you wronged,” said the 
same sweet voice, coming, Laura could not dream 
from wheie. 

“ I thank Thee, Heaven ! And I will be firm and 
trust to the Father of the fatherless, and the Friend 
of the friendless,” said Laura, and she wept no 
more. 

Sitting down, she folded her arms above her 
throbbing heart, and waited. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


121 


CHAPTER XXV. 

PLANS OF RESCUE. 

After securing the door of the room in which he 
left Laura, Enoch Sharp went to that usually occu- 
pied by Nathan Sloth. His face fairly blazed with 
anger, when entering it so suddenly, he surprised 
his clerk emptying a large-sized tumbler of liquor. 

Two or three hops, and he was on him. With 
one hand he sent the clerk reeling across the room 
from a buffet in the face ; with the other he hurled 
the bottle after him with a force that, had it hit its 
mark, his head would perhaps have necessitated a 
coroner’s inquest. 

But Nathan dodged, and the bottle was shivered 
to atoms against the wall. 

“Miserable beast, do you dare to drink when I 
have work on hand for you?” screamed the lawyer. 

“ Oh, good sir, I was so dry, and there wasn’t any 
water in the room, and you told me to stay here. 
Oh, please don’t hit me again!” 

And Nathan crouched in terror as Sharp seemed 
to be about to advance on him again. 

“Dog, I would murder you for a song! Go in- 
stantly and find Jake Bartram. Tell him to find a 
priest or a magistrate who will marry him to Miss 
Laura, and to come to me without delay. Start 
now, and the sooner you return the better will it be 
for you!” 

“Yes, sir!” 

And in an instant Nathan was on his way. 


122 


LAUBA BRAYTON. 


Only a short distance from the house he was met 
by Sammy Glenn. 

“I say, Shorty, aren’t you the clerk for that foo- 
foo lawyer they call Enoch Sharp? 

Nathan thus addressed halted, and took a good 
long stare at the man who spoke to him. 

At last he answered : 

“If you call me Shorty, I’d like to know where 
the long ones come from!” 

“Wouldn’t you take somethin’ if a feller asked 
you to?” 

“ If the court knows itself, and it thinks it does, it 
would, if that somethin’ was ardent!” said Nathan, 
eying his interlocutor quietly. “But not anywhere 
near here, for old Sharp’s eyes reach a long ways, 
I tell vou.” 

“Then lead the way where you like, and I’ll pay 
for the drink. I’ve a little job that I want done 
that you can make money by.” 

“Money? How much; will it all be for myself? 
Won’t old Sharp have none of it?” asked Nathan, 
speaking faster, probably, than he ever did before, 

“A hundred dollars, sure; maybe more, all to 
yourself, if you’ll do what that young gent who is 
coming toward us wants you to do.” 

“Great George Washington! One hundred dol- 
lars all to myself? I’ll do anything but murder, 
and I’d do that if it wasn’t for the hanging part 
like to follow. Come on ; come on, Macduff, and 
I’ll cry hold when I’ve got enough!” 

And with a tragic air which would have madg 
him first clown in a circus ring, Nathan led the 
way into a porter-house a few paces farther on, 
leaving a corner between him and a view of Sharp’s 
house. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


123 


Here he was instantly followed by Eldridge Put- 
nam, to whom he was introduced by Sammy Glenn 
in these words : 

“ This ’ere is the lame lawyer’s quill-driver, boss ! 
Ain’t he pooty?” 

Eldridge smiled, but business was too important 
for delay. 

“Young man!” said he to Nathan, “would you 
like to make some money easily?” 

“Oh, wouldn’t I? Just you try me once!” 

“Well, look at that.” 

Eldridge pulled out a plethoric roll of bank bills, 
and selecting one with XX upon the margin, handed 
it to him. 

“Now,” said he, “this is only a commencement of 
what you will get if you serve me faithfully. I 
want you to answer a few questions.” 

“Well, ask ’em; for if I don’t hurry on what old 
Sharp sent me, I’ll get rats when I go back.” 

And Nathan nervously shoved the “twenty” into 
his pocket. 

“What has Sharp done-with the young lady, Miss 
Laura Bray ton?” 

“He has locked her up in his back office.” 

“What is he going to do next?” 

“He is going to marry her to Jake Bartram, just 
as soon as I can find him and a priest or a squire. 
That is what he sent me out after. And I’m to 
hurry, or he’ll break every bone in my body. 
Where’s the drink you were goin’ to get me? Don’t 
you see I’m so cold and so dry that a hot punch 
would be an act of mercy passed by the Board of 
Health?” 

This last appeal was made to Sammy Glenn. 

“Dry up, Ink-stand! Don’t you see it a-comin’?” 


124 


LAURA BRATTON. 


was the reply of the fireman, pointing to a waiter 
who was bringing the drink. 

Nathan’s face expressed his satisfaction, and the 
next instant his thirst was temporarily allayed. 

“You are to find Jake Bartram, and a priest or a 
squire?” continued Putnam. 

“Yes; that is what Sharp started me after.” 

“Very well; find Bartram. When found, bring 
him here. The priest will be here, remember. And 
if you recognize me in spite of a change of clothes, 
do not exhibit any surprise. Only tell Bartram, if 
he has a word to say, that you can find a priest, 
and then bring him here.” 

“You’ll get me into a scrape with old Sharp. 
What will keep me out. of danger?” said Nathan, 
thoughtfully. 

“Articles like that, and an influence stronger than 
you dream of!” 

And Putnam put quite a roll of bank bills in the 
hands of the astonished clerk. 

“Mine?— all mine?” asked Nathan, wildly, hardly 
believing his senses. 

“Yes, all yours; and more to come, if you are 
faithful.” 

“Great Thomas Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe! 
Don’t you think I’ll be faithful to the end? Yes, 
sir, even if the end is a rope! All this mine?” 

And again, with a hand shaking so that he could 
hardly hold it, the clerk looked over the money. 

“Now, hurry away, for I must go to a second- 
hand shop, to change my clothes,” said Putnam. 
“Remember, I will be here when you get back, 
reading a paper.” 

“Yes, yes. All mine !— all mine !” 


4 


LAURA BRATTON. 


125 


And Nathan walked away, biting his finger hard 
as he went, to see whether he were awake or not. 

Hurrying on, he did not observe that he had been 
followed by Enoch Sharp to the door of the porter- 
house, and that the latter, drawing back and 
muffling his head down the collar of his coat, was 
just able to keep from being stumbled over by him 
as he reached the street. 

The lame lawyer had evidently seen him spoken 
to by Sammy Glenn, suspected something wrong, 
and had followed in time to see a part of his 
treachery, perhaps to overhear his instructions. 
But, be that as it may, we will be apt to know all 
about it by and by. At present things look stormy 
ahead. 


126 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

SHARP ON HIS GUARD. 

The moment Nathan passed on one way Enoch 
Sharp hurried off in another. First he visited the 
police station near by, and had a conference with 
the officer in charge of the district. Then he went 
as fast as his lameness would permit to the porter- 
house where he had directed Joe to remain when 
he wished to communicate with him. 

Finding Joe at a domino-table with three of his 
own kind, Sharp called" for the key of a private 
back room, and bidding him follow, alone, went 
into it. 

“What’s up? I can see somethin’ is wrong, by 
the drop of your under lip,” said the ruffian. 

“Yes, I have got more work for you. But mere 
killing will not satisfy my vengeance now. There 
are those who must die by inches, whose agonies 
must be lengthened until death would be a boon, a 
mercy to be prayed for.” 

“Yes, a ki$d of Injin hate that of yours. Well, I 
like it. It is like new rum, good because it is strong. 
But what is up now?” 

“First, that Nathan Sloth, the miserable cur, is a 
treacherous villain ; at this moment he is betraying 
me and has the price of his treachery in his 
pocket.” 

“I’ll relieve him of that as soon as we meet. He 
wants more choking.” 

“Next, Eldridge Putnam is forming some plan to 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


127 


try to get Laura Brayton out of my hands. What 
it is I will soon know, and I have taken precautions 
to arrest him for assuming a false character. He 
is even now putting on a garb. I expect, to play 
the part of a parson. I want him to die, not at 
once, but slowly and miserably, and she to be a 
witness of his suffering without the chance to aid 
him in the slightest way.” 

“Well, I reckon all that can be did.” 

“And he has made a friend in one of the lower 
class, a fireman — he, too, and all connected with 
him must learn that it were better to enter the cage 
of an untamed tiger than to cross my path to annoy 
me.” 

“Well, boss, to shorten in everything, all you 
have to do is to point out what you want done, pay 
up as you have all the time, and you know it will 
be done. But I don’t hear nothing about the man 
with the red scar to-day.” 

“We -will hear if he is not found before that 
cursed trial comes . up. For I know he is at the 
bottom of that,” said Sharp. “And now to arrange 
for to-night. T shall fix the hour for the marriage 
of Laura Brayton and Jake Bartram at nine to- 
night. It will be dark now in a little while, but 
there will be plenty of time after that to arrange 
my plans. I will have a real magistrate, whom I 
know, and who will do anything for money, to act 
after the false person is carried off. But to be ready 
for all emergencies, I want you to have at least 
a half-dozen fellows who will do what they are told 
to do at all hazards, no matter what occurs.” 

“Fighting stock, eh?” 

“Yes, 1 care not how rough or how desperate, so 
they do what they are expected to do.” 


128 


LAURA BRATTON. 


“That’s all right boss, they shall be on hand. 
But there will be more cash wanted. You can’t 
never ’list them sort o’ recruits without the bounty 
in hand.” 

“I know it,” said Sharp, and a roll of bills passed 
from his hand into the claws of Joe. 

“I like workin’ for you, boss,” said the wretch, 
with a grin. “’Cause why, you shell out easy. 
There’s no hemming and hawing and holdin’ on to 
the precious; you know what kind of a stone it 
takes to sharpen a knife and you use it. Anything 
more now?” 

“Yes, we must think where to conceal you and 
your men until they -are wanted, if they should be 
required. There is a basement under my library, 
and from it a stair-way leads to a trap-door that 
used to be kept open for the purpose of taking wood 
and coal up there. It is fastened down now, but I 
will loosen it when I go back. Here is the key to 
that basement room. Be in the basement with your 
men at nine exactly, and remaining there in 
silence, be ready to answer my signal. Should you 
hear three successive heavy stamps of my heel on 
the floor — or rather on the trap-door, rush up with 
your men — the door will yield when you push ft. 
Then do as you are ordered by me, no matter 
what.” 

“All right, boss, there will be no fail in me. 
Aren’t you dry, talkin’ so long?” 

“Ho, I must hurry off . I have something more 
important than drink on my mind now. This night 
must be a triumph in one point at least. And then 
I must nerve for another struggle. What it is, I 
can scarcely yet tell, but it is a fight for my fortune, 
and life without success in that would be useless to 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


129 


me. I began life poor, wretched, and lame, and a 
beggar, a crooked mockery of humanity. I have 
fought beggary and conquered it. I have battled 
with all kinds of opposition and have been victori- 
ous. And now — now shall I fall? No — no! Or if I 
do, I will bring down every enemy with me. Like 
Samson, my death shall carry destruction on all 
around me.” 

“ Why you aren’t thinkin’ of dyin’, boss?” 

“No, no; defeat, however, would be worse than 
death !” 

And Enoch Sharp, uttering only the word “ re- 
member,” left the place. 


130 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE WEDDING INTERRUPTED. 

Laura Bray ton remained for some time in partial 
darkness in the room in which the lawyer left her, 
and the deepening gloom announced the near ap- 
proach of night, when Sharp unlocked the door and 
entered with a light. After placing it on the table, 
he went out and brought in some food and wine on 
a tray. 

“You’ll need strength, girl!” said he, harshly, 
“You’re to be married in a couple of hours, and 
your husband is going to take you on a journey. 
Eat and drink then, to get strength.” 

Laura made no reply. 

“At least take a glass of wine,” he said. “For 
wine gives strength and courage too!” 

And he left the room, again locking the door. 

Laura looked at the food with loathing. She had 
no appetite for it, no desire for the wine. But a 
thought struck her. She felt weak, faint, sick at 
heart. Would not the wine arouse her courage, 
make her bold to meet and oppose what might 
come. She thought she would try it. Approaching 
the bottle she took it in her hand and poured out a 
glassful. But as she was raising it to her lips, the 
same low, thrilling^ echo-like voice was heard : 

“Touch it not, it may be drugged for your ruin!” 

Startled and alarmed, too, by the thought, Laura 
let the glass drop, and it was shivered on the floor. 


LAURA BRAYTOX 


131 




“ Who, oh, who is it that I cannot see, yet who 
seems to watch over and befriend me,” asked 
Laura. 

“You soon will know. The crisis of your life is 
at hand. Be firm, be true to yourself and fear not. 
Clouds, dark and fearful, now enshroud you, but 
they will vanish. Be firm, be brave !” 

The voice was instantly hushed, for heavy steps 
were heard approaching. The door was again un- 
locked and thrown open, and Enoch Sharp, accom- 
panied by Bartram, the latter very evidently under 
the influence of liquor, entered. 

“ Here is your bride that is to be, Mr. Bartram, 
try to collect your senses so that you can at least 
respond in the ceremony!” cried Sharp. 

“Yes, got somethin' to take here!” said Bartram, 
reeling toward the table, “that'll help to collect my 
senses!” 

“Fool! You’ve drunk too much already!” cried 
Sharp, angrily. 

And he dashed the bottle against the opposite 
wall. 

“I— I didn’t think you— you was so cussed waste- 
ful as that, spillin’ good liquor!” stammered the 
drunken man. “But it is gone— it wasn’t me that 
did it !” 

And he sank down on a chair and turned his 
glassy eyes on Laura 

“So — we’re to be mar— married, my dear! Old 
Sh — harp says so, and I suppose it— it is so. I 
might look fur— further and fare worse, I s’pose— 
and so might you, for old Sharp says there’s worse 
folks than me in the world, and what he— he don’t 
know isn’t worth knowing. What do you think of 
the prospects, my dear?” 


1 


132 


LAURA BRATTON. 


The keen, hateful gleam of Sharp’s eyes was bent 
with malignant eagerness on her face, every look 
of pain and disgust expressed, there was a joy to 
him. Seeing that she made no reply, he said : 

“Are you ready, girl? The minister is in the 
other room. Shall I call him in at once, or would 
you like a few minutes’ conversation with your 
noble lord that is to be!” 

Still Laura made no other reply than a look of 
calm defiance. 

“Well, I see no need of further delay!” said 
Sharp, at last. Then going to the door, he said, 
in a louder tone : 

“Parson Brown, you will please enter. Nathan 
Sloth, you also can come in as a witness!” 

Laura looked despairingly toward the door. A 
man with a long grayish beard, an uncombed mass 
of red hair, in a threadbare suit of black, with a 
white ncekcloth to denote his callng, entered the 
room. Close behind him, with a slow, catlike step, 
seeming terribly nervous, came Nathan Sloth. 

As they entered, Laura thought she heard the 
noise of still other people in the next room, but as 
no one came in, she thought she might have been 
mistaken. But she felt that a crisis was indeed at 
hand, and she nerved herself for the exigence by 
a resolve that no force, no terror should for a mo- 
ment shake her constancy to him she loved better 
far than life. 

“Hurry up, parson, and get through with this 
matter, for I’ve other fish to fry!” cried Sharp. 
“And, by the way,” he added, as he heard footsteps 
in the outer room, “that reminds me to ask you a 
very important question. You are a real parson, 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


133 


fully authorized to perform the marriage ceremony 
legally, I suppose?” 

“Oh, of course!” said the man in black, in a 
muffling tone, just as two officers of police entered 
and took stations near the door. 

“ What persuasion, in what church do you offi- 
ciate?” continued the lawyer. 

“The Universalist,” said the man, in a low tone, 
looking not at the lawyer but at Laura Brayton, 
who was eying him closely. 

“You hear, gentlemen,” said Sharp, addressing 
the policemen, “this person says he is a minister 
fully authorized to unite men and women in wed- 
lock?” 

The policemen both nodded, and smiled. 

“Instead of being what he pretends to be,” con- 
tinued Sharp, “ he is an impostor. He is a wretch 
who has once abducted my lawful ward from my 
care, and who now, by pretending to marry her to 
another, was planning to get her out of my care, he 
would have managed to frighten the poor devil 
who stands there, half-drunk, into giving her up. 
Gentlemen, I give him into your charge under his 
real name, Eldridge Putnam, and I also bid you 
arrest that rascal, Nathan Sloth, as an accomplice 
in his fraud. I will appear at the station-house and 
enter a formal complaint, as soon as the marriage 
by a real magistrate is legally concluded.” 

“ The pretense on my part was for an honorable 
purpose ; it was to rescue this poor persecuted girl 
from a horrible fate!” cried Eldridge Putnam, at 
once casting off the false hair and bfeard which 
formed a part of his disguise. “I am too well 
known in this city to be charged with any disgrace- 
ful act. And if any one is to be arrested let it be 


134 


LAURA BRATTON. 


the villain who would sacrifice a helpless girl 
against her will.” 

^‘Take him and that rascal off!” cried Sharp, 
pointing to Eldridge and the clerk. 

The officers advanced, while Laura, with a low 
cry, sprang to the side of her lover. 

“Fear not, Laura, I have friends at hand,” said 
Eldridge, purposely emphasizing a word pre- 
arranged as a signal. 

“Yes, sir! You have got friends that’ll stand by 
you in any muss that comes!” cried a manly voice 
at the door, and the next instant Sammy Glenn and 
a half-dozen young men entered the room, Monsieur 
Maret bringing up the rear. 

“Ah — ha — ze gens de arms — zey here?” cried the 
latter. “ Bon — we shall see what we shall see. 
Monsieur Pootnam, shall I have ze honare to assist 
you in ze present case?” 

“Wait a moment, gentlemen, I see reinforce- 
ments are the order of the day. I too have my 
reserves!” cried Sharp to the policemen, and he 
hopped into the outer room and stamped fiercely on 
the floor. The next moment a dozen fierce, -wild, 
murderous-looking ruffians followed him into the 
front part of the crowded room, while Putnam, 
determined to pro+ect Laura with his life’s best 
blood, if necessary, retreated with her to a corner 
of the room. 

” Ah, this suits me,” cried Sharp. “Here comes 
the real magistrate. And now with plenty of wit- 
nesses the intended marriage shall go on!” 

“It shall not!” came in a voice as loud as thunder 
—so strong and fierce that Bart ram, who was yet 
sitting by the table, sprang up in terror, upsetting 


LAURA BRATTON , ; 


135 


table, lamp, and all, plunging the room into instant 
darkness. 

“Who spoke? — stand fast by the door, Joe, till I 
bring a light from the other room!” shouted the 
lawyer. 

In a minute the lawyer brought in a light, and 
then there was a cry of wonder from every one in 
the room. 

Two who had been there when the light was ex- 
tinguished were no longer to be seen. And they 
were the two most important to the success of 
Sharp’s wicked designs. 

Laura Brayton and Eldridge Putnam had disap- 
peared ! 

“IT1 swear no one passed by me but you!” said 
Joe, meeting the wondering, frightened gaze of 
Sharp. 

“The old boy has possession of this house!” 
groaned Sharp. 

“Zere is no doubt of zat, if you, monsieur, are ze 
ownare!” said Monsieur Maret, bowing. 

“ I knew it was haunted, but this beats all I have 
known before !” continued Sharp, with a bewildered 
air. 

“What do you want done, boss? Shall we chaw 
up that Frenchman and his friends?” asked Joe. 

“ I reckon you’d find us tough on the chaw, if you 
are from the Meadow!” said Sammy, as he, imitated 
by his companions, exhibited a six-shooter in each 
hand. 

“Bah — we’re used to pop-guns!” said Joe, scorn- 
fully, but Sharp turned to him and said : 

“ It is no use now. I must find out where that 
girl is, or what has become of her, and no fighting 
now will help me in that.” 


136 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“ I’d like to find where my friend and his gal has 
gone to, too!” said Sammy Glenn. “And I’ll tell 
you what it is, old chap, if I don’t find out soon I’ll 
raise a crowd that’ll not leave one brick atop of 
another in your old crib.” 

“ And, sare, permit me to observe zat if I find not 
my friend very soon safe, I shall ’ave ze pleasure of 
perform one operation on you wiz my rapier, my 
small sword!” 

“I have no time to quarrel with you now,” said 
Sharp, then turning to the policemen and to Joe, he 
said : 

“ Let everybody leave that wants to leave peace- 
fully. I am foiled, but I am not conquered.” 

And he went out into the outer office, or library. 

With evident reluctance, for he and his men were 
hungry for a fight, Joe and his party cleared the 
way to the door by vanishing as they came, and 
then all but Jake Bartram left the room. 

He had sunk stupidly down on his chair again 
and was now in a drunken stupor, insensible to 
everything that had happened, or might occur. 


LAURA BRAYTON, 


137 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“i TRUST YOU — WE TRUST YOU !” 

The disappearance, noiseless and almost instanta- 
neous, of Laura Brayton and her lover from that 
crowded room, was almost as mysterious to them as 
it was to those whom they had left behind. 

Eldridge Putnam had, as we related, retreated to 
the corner of the room, and had placed his left arm 
around Laura, while with his right he drew a re- 
volver. At that moment when Sharp’s shrill voice 
had declared that the marriage with Bartram should 
go on, a voice sounding almost in his ear the reply, 
astonished Putnam almost as much as it frightened 
Bartram when he upset the lamp, plunging all into 
temporary darkness. 

At that instant a vcice whispered in Putnam’s 
ear: 

“Lose not your hold of the lady; be silent and 
follow.” 

Instantly he was drawn from the spot with a 
powerful, yet friendly grasp, for it was not harsh 
in its grip, and as he clung to Laura, she having 
also heard the whisper, they were in a moment 
moved into what appeared to be a narrow passage. 

“Follow in confidence; a friend is your guide!” 
was again whispered, and for several yards they 
moved on; then their conductor paused. 

Listening a few moments, only a confused sound, 
as of conversation in the distance, could be heard, 


138 


LAURA BRAYTOm 


“Your friends are safe. Your absence has pre- 
vented strife and bloodshed!” whispered their con- 
ductor. “We will go on. Step carefully. We are 
about to descend a stairway. Let the lady lean on 
your arm, young man.” 

Laura was all the time clinging to his arm, and 
Eldridge Putnam felt happy in the thought that 
whatever might be before them they would not be 
separated, and that the dangers they had left were 
surely as bad as any they might meet. 

Down, down, a great way it seemed to them, 
silently they passed until again their conductor 
halted. He touched what seemed to be a bell-pull 
or knob, for they heard just one sound like that of a 
call or office-bell. Then on some board, or door, 
near, there was a sound of two distinct blows, not 
loud, but plain to distinguish. 

The person who had conducted them all this time 
in darkness, now answered that signal by one single 
and two double knocks. Then the slight creaking 
of a door on hinges was heard before them, and 
their conductor whispered : 

“Go forward fearlessly ; you will soon find light. 
I must return to see how things go above. We will 
soon meet again.” 

And Putnam found himself pushed forward into 
a room apparently, for he felt a carpet under his 
feet. Laura was still clinging to his arm. The 
door was heard to creak again. It had evidently 
closed behind them. 

“Oh, where can we be?” murmured Laura. 

“In safety; fear not, light will show you one 
friend who never, never in life will desert you, if 
you are the person I think you are.” 

“It is the angel voice I heard when I was in such 


LAURA RRAYTOK 139 

wretchedness,” said Laura. “I trust you— we trust 
you!” 

Suddenly a blaze ,of light burst out which, for a 
mop&ent, almost blinded them, coming in such dense 
darkness. But when their eyes recovered from this 
shock the young couple saw standing before them, 
in a small but comfortable room, a middle-aged 
female, tall, commanding in figure, and with a face 
mournfully sweet and earnest in its expression. 

Looking with dark eyes, liquid with feeling, upon 
Laura, she extended her arms, and said : 

“Poor, poor child, yours has been a hard, a cruel 
fate, but Heaven has saved you that you may be 
happy yet.” 

“Oh, who, who are you?” said Laura, as she 
moved willingly into her embrace, and looked up 
trustingly into her eyes. “I have not seen you be- 
fore, yet it seems as if I had known you all my life.” 

“ It is long, very long since we met ; but it will 
only be death which shall ever part us now,” said 
the lady. “But ask me nothing more at present. 
You shall know soon who I am, and why I tell you 
that I love you dearer than my own life, that I have 
battled for life and struggled for years for the hap- 
piness which is now dawning. You will remain 
here with me, dear one, in secrecy and in safety. 
This noble young man, of whom, through others, I 
have learned enough to know that he is worthy the 
love you have given him, has yet a work to do in the 
outer world before the finale comes which shall ex- 
pose a terrible iniquity, and restore wronged ones to 
their rights. He will leave us until he is sent for to 
see right done and evil put down. This will occur 
in two short days more.” 

“ I do not wish to leave her alone again, even with 


140 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


one who seems to be so much her friend,” said Put- 
nam, suspiciously. 

“Seems to be her friend,” said the lady, reproach- 
fully. “You force me to reveal to you a secret 
which I must defer conveying to her for a few 
hours, until the victory is mine.” 

And leaving Laura standing where she was she 
led the young man to a corner of the room, and 
whispered a few words in his ear. 

“Now are you willing to do as I advise?” she 
asked, as they both returned to where Laura was 
standing. 

“Yes, lady, yes, and to follow all your directions. 

I know my Laura is safe with you, and I have no 
desire to take her from your side until you resign 
her to me.” 

“Then bid her not farewell, but a brief good by, 
for I will conduct you where a single step will leave 
you in the street of the city, instructing you as I do 
so how to return at any moment unobserved, with- 
out persons are by your very side.” 

Putnam took the hand of Laura, and pressing it 
to his lips, said : 

“We will soon know all the mystery, dear one. 
You are safe. I leave you to do my part in work 
which must be done.” 

Laura’s eyes were full of tears, but she whispered 
a loving good-by, and then the lady, bidding her re- 
main, led him away. 

Up another pair of narrow stone steps, with a 
wall so close that it could be felt on each side of the 
elbows, the lady led the way, after leaving the 
room "in which Laura remained. She carried no 
light, nor did she hesitate, but seemed to be familiar 


LAURA BRATTON. 141 

with the route. At last she paused, and bade Put- 
nam listen. 

He did so, and could plainly hear persons tread- 
ing along pavements, and the distant sound of 
wheels. 

“If I press a spring,” she said, “what appears 
from the outside to be a solid slab in the wall will 
turn for an instant and allow you to step into the 
street. The moment I remove the pressure of my 
hand the stone will silently return to its place. It 
was a contrivance made by an ancestor of mine 
many years ago for his own safety, he, then, prob- 
ably never dreaming how useful all his plans and 
means of concealment might be to his descendants. 
I told you I would instruct you in the secret. Raise 
your hand by my arm until you press what appears 
only to be a brick left carelessly out too far from 
the line of the rest There, you feel it now. Before 
you press it let me say on the outside, in the wall, 
not so far out, but distinguished by being a size 
smaller than any around it, and a very little farther 
out the same spring can be used for ingress that 
you now use for egress. And now take these letters 
to Lawyer Johnson, and say to him to go on boldly 
with our case. We will appear when called for. 
The papers I send are all that he needs to found his 
full plea upon. He will tell you what he wishes 
you to do. You are of full age, and I consent to 
your assuming the position named in a note from 
me. Now go, and Heaven bless you.” 

Eldridge felt a rush of fresh air in his face, and 
gently pushed, he stepped forward and was con- 
scious instantly, though in the shadow of a high- 
wall, that he was in the street. A few moments 
and a few steps forward enabled him to get the 


142 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


range of the lights and the street, and he then re- 
cognized the spot where he stood almost in front of 
the old-fashioned house owned by Enoch Sharp. 

He then stepped back to the wall to see if he could 
easily find the outside spring to the secret entrance. 
He found it with little difficulty, but did not press 
it, for he heard steps coming along the street and 
he did not wish to be noticed in the vicinity, so he 
moved along. 

“I say, boys, if we don’t get no track of Eldridge 
Putnam and his gal by to-morrow morning I mean 
to have that old crib washed out in some way.” 

How quickly young Putnam recognized the warm, 
earnest tones of Sammy Glenn, when those words 
reached his ears. In an instant, keeping yet in the 
shade, he passed on to where Glenn was walking at 
a slow pace with his friends, and then slipping out 
by his side, suddenly said : 

“Show no surprise, and don’t speak loud, Sammy. 
I am free, and Laura is safe. You shall know all 
by and by, but keep quiet till you see me again.” 

“Are you sure it’s you? Isn’t it your ghost?” ex- 
claimed Sammy, sorely puzzled to know how his 
friend appeared so suddenly, and where he came 
from. 

“I am too happy to be a ghost, Sammy,” said Eld- 
ridge. “But I have no time to talk now. I have 
business to do too important to neglect. Tell your 
Annie she will soon see Laura again, and be called 
on to act as her bridesmaid.” 

“What! And me, too, boss?” 

“Not as bridesmaid, but as groomsman, Sammy. 
But, good-night. Be still about this. We will scon 
have old Sharp where dreams will be his only 
comfort.” 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


143 


“I hope he’ll dream of snakes then!” said Sammy, 
as his friend hurried away. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

A VISIT TO LAWYER JOHNSON. 

It was a late hour for legal business, for lawyers, 
like bankers, are on the “early closing” list, but 
late as it was Eldridge Putnam went directly to the 
house, not the office, of the distinguished lawyer to 
whom he had been directed to carry the papers 
given to him, and with whom he had been in- 
structed to confer on future business. 

He rang, sent in bis name, and was admitted. 
With his family name the lawyer was well ac- 
quainted, and when he entered young Putnam 
received a kind and cordial reception. The lawyer 
was alone in a cozy little sitting-room, seated in 
what is termed a writing-chair, a large armed- 
chair, having a drawer and writing-shelf resting 
on its right arm. 

The lawyer rose, laid down his pen, and shook 
hands with the young man, who at once handed 
him the papers which he had brought. 

The lawyer took the package, opened them one 
by one, read each paper, and carefully refolded it. 
For a full hour he was thus engaged without ever 
speaking. Yet his thoughts and passing reflections 
could almost be read in the flexible play and vary- 
ing expression of his features. 

First inquiry, then surprise, then pleasure, again 
doubt, then that all cleared up, and at last a tri- 
umphant conclusion, 


144 


LAURA BRATTON. 


All these feelings had Eldridge Putnam read in 
the face of the old lawyer before he spoke. 

“ These papers are- of great importance, Mr. Put- 
nam,” said he. “Before I had them I had great 
confidence in the case which I had taken in hand, 
now I am positive that I shall succeed on every 
point. Millions of dollars are involved, and the pos- 
session of these papers leaves everything as clear as 
day. I suppose you are fully aware of the important 
part you are to play in the legal drama about being 
enacted.” 

“Not entirely, sir; but I am ready to take any part 
assigned to me by the lady who gave me those 
papers. She referred me to you for instructions.” 

“Well, sir, your duty will be to assume the respon- 
sibility of guardianship of the heirs to the immense 
property for which I will sue. The main reason is 
that I wish no real names of the persons to come 
out until I produce two persons supposed to be dead, 
and one who has been reared under a false name 
and in a false position in court. One of these per- 
sons would have been the main plaintiff in person, 
but I wish to keep her back as a witness until a 
moment when her appearance and evidence will 
appall the defendant, if there is any feeling left in 
him. And now, Mr. Putnam, let me offer you lodg- 
ings in my own house. I have to offer as a reason 
my desire at a very early hour to drive out to the 
residence of Mr. Walter Withers, to explain mat- 
ters to him, and introduce you ; for he is deeply in- 
terested in the cause in which I now know I shall 
succeed.” 

“With thanks, sir, I accept your hospitality, if 
by doing so I can further the ends desired.” 

“You will. And now, my young friend, that you 


. LAURA BRAYTON. 


145 


may fully understand all about this case, which in 
its strange reality is more romantic than any fiction 
that you ever read, I will give you for perusal after 
you retire to a chamber to which I will have you 
conducted a full history as embraced in this record.” 

Handing the young man a manuscript of consid- 
erable size the lawyer called a servant, who con- 
ducted him to an elegant apartment, where he could 
read and retire to rest when the desire so to do over- 
took him. 


146 


LAURA BRAYTON. ; 


CHAPTER XXX. 

IN A STORM AT SEA. 

Not “a painted ship on a painted sea,” but a gal- 
lant craft in grand reality, lay rising and falling on 
the great sobbing waves of ocean, just outside the 
low capes of Virginia, her head pointing directly 
into the mouth of the Chesapeake. A gentle breeze 
filling her canvas, every thread of which was set 
from the sky-sails down to the courses, had wafted 
her in out of the Gulf Stream, and now, in the green 
water of soundings, with the pilot on board, and her 
passengers actually dressed for the shore, it was 
annoying that a calm should come on. 

The first mate— a gallant and handsome young 
man, who had but this voyage to complete ere the 
command of a new vessel in the line, a ship called, 
by permission of the owners, after his true heart’s 
choice, Sadia, the Peerless, was to be his — was bit- 
ter in his words of impatience. 

“Three hours more of wind,” he cried, “would 
have run us in where tugs would have taken us up 
the bay for a song. I wish it would blow the very 
sticks out of her, instead of leaving us to drift about 
here like a sick dandy in a ball-room.” 

“Patience, Mr. Fulton— patience!” said the old 
captain. “What is a day, or even a week, when 
your pay runs on?” 

“Blast the pay! I’d rather lose money than time. 
I’d give three months of pay now for a double-reefed 
topsail gale,” 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


147 


“We may have even more than that, sir,” said 
the old grizzly-haired, weather-bronzed pilot. “I’m 
more used to this coast than any of you, and more 
like to see what you wouldn’t notice. When por- 
poises heave their heads for deep water, it is no time 
for ships to hug the shore.” 

And he pointed to a squad of the sharp-snouted 
sea-hogs, puffing and blowing as they worked off to 
eastward.” 

“Ay, that looks bad. I’ye seen it before,” said 
the old captain, looking anxiously all around the 
horizon. “Yet there’s no bad weather sign in the 
sky.” 

“Isn’t there in the air? Do you hear that?” 

And as they listened, they heard distinctly the 
stroke of a bell — heard it so plainly that each stroke 
was counted. 

“That is a ship’s bell, clear in at Hampton Roads, 
where the ships are almost hull down,” said the 
pilot. “ When you can hear sounds so far as that 
it is time that a ship was put in trim for heavy 
weather.” 

“You’re right, pilot. Will you shorten sail, or 
shall I? You’re in charge, you know.” 

“You had better do it, captain; the crew are more 
used to you than me. They’ll work with a better 
will at your commands.” 

The captain at once began to reduce sail. 

“What does this mean, sir?” asked a tall, fine- 
looking man, who from his extreme pallor, as well 
as his lender, fragile form, seemed to be in very ill 
health ; a man whose age might be fifty, not more, 
perhaps less ; for those who suffer grow old in look 
beyond their years. 

“ It means, sir, that those old fogies are scared at 


148 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


a shadow. They are taking in sail when there isn’t 
wind enough to fan a baby’s cheek, and scarce a 
cloud in sight.” 

“Why is it? I cannot bear delay. I so long to 
reach the shore. I do not wish to die at sea. If I 
can stand once more in my native city, look once 
more on scenes where I was blessed, I would die 
contented, if not happy.” 

“ If I was in command you’d be in Baltimore in 
less than forty-eight hours, if I had to buy a tug to 
tow us there,” muttered the mate. “This morning 
at sunrise, I’d have bet a year’s pay I’d be talking 
to my Sadia in four-and-twenty hours. Now, the 
next thing we’ll do after the canvas is in will be to 
stick our head seaward, like those porpoises. Just 
as sensibly, too. I’m going below to take a nap. If 
I can’t see Baltimore I’ll dream of it, by thunder.” 

The invalid, for such he evidently was, resumed 
his position by the ship’s rail, and again bent his 
wild, eager gaze upon the distant land. 

The seamen seemed to feel as the mate did about 
taking in sail, for though they obeyed every order 
the captain gave, it was not with that cheerful 
promptitude with which they would have set it. 
There they were, homeward bound, almost in an 
anchorage, no signs of a gale visible to them, yet 
prepai ing for it, and apparently lessening their best 
chance for a speedy end to a long and tiresome voy- 
age. For that ship, laden with teas and spices, had 
come from the far off Indies of the East, and for 
over half a year had been winging her way toward 
the port now so close at hand. 

But men who have studied weather signs from 
boyhood up to old age seldom forget the lessons of a 
life time. 


LAURA BRAYTOJSt. 


149 


Heavier and heavier yet rolled the great ground- 
swell, until the ship, divested of nearly all her can- 
vas, with her lightest spars housed or sent down, 
rolled till the tips of her lower yards at times act- 
ually dipped in the green waves, for without steer- 
age way the ship had worked into the trough. But 
stays and braces were all taut, the rigging well set 
up, boats and inboard spars all snugly lashed, her 
cargo buoyant, no one used to it cared for the roll, 
too often had they been rocked in the “cradle of the 
deep,” to be terrified then. 

“How will it come?” asked the captain, fully two 
hours after the ship was snug, for he saw the pilot 
still anxiously pacing the deck and watching the 
horizon as he did so. 

“There away! n said the pilot, quietly, looking 
rather than pointing to a line of black just heaving 
in sight to the northwest, “ but it is coming too quick 
to last from there long. See, it rises fast. I believe 
we’ll have a regular old-time hurricane, and if we 
do it will take the sweep of the circle before its 
strength is gone. It is twenty years since we had 
the last one, or more, maybe. I remember ’twas a 
screamer and strewed the whole coast with wrecks. 
The boat I was in got before it and went clear to 
the Bermudas and then got blowed back to the coast 
and went high and dry on Roanoke beach. See 
how those clouds come up!” 

“Yes, we must take what is coming with only 
enough head sail on to get us before it!” said the 
captain. 

Then he gave the necessary orders, and with only 
a fore-storm staysail set, all the large hatchways 
securely battened down, life-lines rove all around 


150 


LAURA BRATTON. 


above the bulwarks, the old seamen waited for the 
storm. 

Not long either was his waiting now. Swiftly as 
if lifted with a mighty hand, the inky cloud vail 
swept up along the sky, the very sea seemed to 
groan and a sickening heat to fill the atmosphere. 
The porpoises were no longer seen rising here and 
there, but some screaming sea-birds flew as if fright- 
ened through the air, while the seamen, now com- 
prehending the wisdom at which in their before- 
time labor they had grumbled, stood silent and awe- 
stricken, watching the oncoming of the tempest. 

On swept the gale, and the ship, rocking no more, 
seemed to be pressed right into the wall of waters, 
never to come out again. Away, snapping like 
weak reeds, flew the slim top-gallant yards and 
masts; one moment the small stout stay-sail for- 
ward held the full breath of the blast, then even 
while it had served its purpose and canted the ship’s 
head aright, it burst from its roping and flew with 
the foam-flakes far away. 

The mate who had gone below to dream, as he 
said, was no dreamer now, but like a brave, true- 
hearted man, as he was, he sprang aft to the weather 
helm to aid the old seaman who had his shoulder to 
the spokes to heave the craft fairly before the wind. 

And now she has headway, she rights, for she is 
off before it with a speed which, were there no 
change, would soon carry her far from the peril of 
rock and sand. 

The land is no longer seen, not even the sky ; it is 
blackness overhead, below, and all around. 

“ How do you like it, pilot?” asked the captain, as 
the ship, all snug, forged off the land. 

“We are safe for the present,” replied the pilot, 


LAURA BRATTON. 


151 


“but my only boy, with but another, younger than 
he, is out in the forty ton boat from which I boarded 
you. Heaven help them in their need. I am get- 
ting old, and am bound to slip my cable before long 
at any rate, but that boy is the light of his mother's 
eyes. She cannot spare him. But God’s will be 
done.” 

The old pilot said no more, but he went aft to look 
into the binnacle at the compass, for only by that 
could they know how their danger would increase or 
lessen. As long as the ship headed from the shore 
her danger was lessening, but if the wind hauled 
and the land was alee, then peril was a reality, not 
a name. 


152 


LAURA BRAYTON, 


CHAPTER XXXI. 
sharp’s terror. 

“What isn’t to be will not be! That’s what’s the 
matter, Enoch Sharp. You needn’t jaw me, because 
some friends of yours, from down below, have spir- 
ited off the girl you wanted me to marry.” 

“Fool! Drunken sot! you anger me because you 
can sleep under disappointment.” 

“Pooh, I could sleep under something heavier 
than disappointment, if I could only be let alone. 
What do you want to shake me so, and wake me up 
for. I can’t do you any good.” 

“You can. This house is haunted. Satan him- 
self leads the spirits which torment me. Wake up 
and keep me company.” 

“I can’t. Why don’t you do as I do, take enough 
of the spirit of Bourbon to drown out the others. 
How let me sleep, Enoch Sharp— do, that is a good 
soul.” 

And the drunken gambler turned over again on 
the floor from which Sharp had been trying to rouse 
him. And in a moment his heavy snoring told how 
dead he was to all the sounds and sights of this 
world, if not to those of the next. 

“Miserable Wretch ! Fiend that I am, I am above 
him at least in my appetites!” muttered Sharp. 
“But the courage, which was once my boast, seems 
to be leaving me. I tremble at my shadow. Even 
that bull-dog, Joe, is above me in the lack of fear. 


LAURA BRATTON. 


153 


Neither man nor fiend can terrify him. I am sorry 
now I did not let him have his way, with his des- 
peradoes, and sweep the room when he wished. 
Better all here, myself included, had died then, 
than that on the day after to-morrow I should be 
defeated, and lose all for which I have spent a life’s 
labor. I will not be defeated. I cannot be, without 
the dead rise from the grave to witness against me.” 

“They will! They will!” rolled in a low, hollow 
tone through the room. 

Enoch Sharp had turned to go into his front office, 
carrying the lamp in his hand. But when these 
words struck his ear, with a groan he turned around. 

What did he see? Why with a wild cry did he 
drop his lamp and sink senseless to the floor? 

The figure of a female, clad in snowy white, press- 
ing a babe to her bosom with one white hand, 
while the forefinger of the other pointed up. That 
was what he saw, and which, thrilling his already 
terror-stricken soul with horror, sent him swooning 
to the floor beside the miserable tool whom he had 
driven into a hundred crimes. 

How long he lay senseless there Enoch Sharp did 
not know, but when he came to his senses he crept 
close up to the drunken form of Bartram and there 
he lay shivering, yet wide awake, until the morning 
t dawned. 


154 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

<f AM I ONLY SAVED?” 

“ It’s awful— but what can we do, Liddy— what 
can we do but pray for ’em?” 

This was said by a fine-looking old gentleman, 
who, with a girl evidently young, yet with every 
grace of a tall and lovely form developed, knelt by 
his side in the light-house tower at Cape Hatteras, 
looking at the dismasted hull of a great ship sweep- 
ing in helplessly on monstrous waves, before an 
eastern gale, toward the wild breakers which tossed 
their white waves up almost to the black clouds 
which seemed to stoop to meet them. 

With a large spy -glass resting on an iron rail the 
beautiful girl watched the sea, and how it was toss- 
ing that ship on in its utter helplessness toward cer- 
tain destruction, and from time to time told the 
keeper — who was her father and had been himself 
a sea captain — what with the naked eye he could 
not see. 

“ She has gone to the south ’hr d of the outer shoals,” 
she said, “but by the drift she now makes she’ll be 
sure to fetch up on the Diamond.” 

“Maybe not, Liddy, maybe not. You know that 
little deep channel which I found when I was out 
there in a calm, fishing, that they’ve called the 
Gardner Channel ever since, after me? There’s a 
strong tide makes in through that, and it might 
draw her clear of the rocks yet.” 

“ It is ebb tide, not flood, father. And no matter 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


155 


-what time of tide it is, the wind is master of every- 
thing out there. Ah! there is another speck in 
sight, a smaller vessel, with no masts standing, 
close to the larger one. I had not seen her before. 
Oh, father, it is awful to think how soon all those 
who are living out there must perish, how soon they 
must meet their God.” 

“Death isn’t terrible to the good, Liddy, no mat- 
ter when or how it comes. Them that have faith in 
Him who died for us can smile when they know 
their foothold on earth is sinking away. You know 
that, child, for you- have seen the good die, you re- 
member.” 

“Yes, father.” 

And the daughter sighed as if some memory 
swept over the harp-strings of her heart with its 
solemn music. 

“How does the ship drift now, Liddy?” he asked. 

“She still keeps to the ^outh of the Diamond, 
father. But the smaller vessel is going bodily on 
toward the rocks.” 

“ The ship may clear ’em, but even then there’s no 
chance. One solid mile from shore the breakers 
would lift her up and dash her on the sand with a 
force which would shiver iron, not to talk of wood. 
She’d go to pieces away out there, and nothing could 
pass alive through all that white water — nothing, 
nothing. It is awful to see them die, it is, Liddy. 
But we can do nothing, my child. They are in the 
hands of the Lord.” 

“Father, I can’t stay up here. I must go down to 
the beach. I’ll take your big sea-coat and wrap up 
in it, and carry down a line and a flask of spirits. 
Maybe some poor creature may be tossed on the 
shore with life enough left in him to save,” 


156 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“Ah, child your motive is good, but you could do 
nothing. I tell you no life can pass through a mile 
of such breakers as these.” 

“I will go, nevertheless, dear father, for it is 
agony to watch them from here any longer.” 

“Well, Heaven bless you, child. You’re like all 
the rest of the women — willful, and when you want 
your way you’ll have it, no matter what I say, so 
bless you, Liddy, bless you, and be careful.” 

“I will, dear father, I will.” 

And the old light-house keeper put his eye to the 
glass and looked out upon the drifting sea. 

“The smaller craft is out o’ sight, Liddy,” he 
cried. But his daughter was out of hearing. 

“Yes, she is in splinters afore now, if she hit the 
Diamond,” continued the old man. “And the ship 
isn’t far out of the same scrape. She’ll clear the 
rocks, but in a little while she’ll strike inside, and 
then all is over for her and all on board. It is awful 
for even a Christian man, that has hope, to meet, 
let alone those that have none. If sinners ever 
think it must be when they’ve got death sure afore 
’em, no way to avoid it, and yet a little time left. 
They’ll think then of when they had plenty of time 
left to repent and be better, and, oh, how awful it 
must make ’em feel. There’s Liddy down on the 
beach already. Bless her brave heart. I was re- 
bellious against Him when I murmured at losing 
my son, and thought I could have better spared my 
daughter. But it seems as if He knew best what I 
needed, for I couldn’t do without Liddy now.” 

The old man dashed his palm over his eyes to 
wipe away the moisture which such thoughts had 
gathered there, and then lifted his eyes from his 
child out to the hull which was coming in so swiftly. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


157 


“There’s no hope, no hope!” he muttered. “The 
ship is doomed. I can do no good up here. The 
lamps are oiled and trimmed ready to light. I’ll go 
down where Liddy is, and help her if a merciful 
Providence should give us anything to do.” 

And in a little while the father and daughter 
stood side by side on the storm-lashed beach. Even 
where they stood, inside the reach of the great white 
rollers, the blinding spray almost shut out the sea- 
ward view, but they got now and then a glimpse of 
a black hull on the white drift of waters, but, at last, 
that seen a moment before fearfully distinct was 
gone, and then the old captain shouted in the ear of 
his child — for even a shout could scarcely be heard. 

“She’s gone, Liddy, she’s gone!” 

Lydia shuddered, and pressed the hand of her 
father, but she kept her eyes on the great rollers 
that tumbled in, one over another, on the trembling 
shore. 

In a little while dark specks were seen — casks, 
spars, planks— but not a body yet. Were the sharks 
strong enough to work their cruelty in that wild 
turmoil? 

A huge spar — it was a great yard, with the close- 
furled sail yet lashed upon it— came sweeping in 
toward the spot where the old captain and his child 
were standing. He drew her back as the sea with 
resistless force threw the spar far up on the snowy 
sand. 

Why did she break from his grasp ?— why rush 
forward at the very peril of her dear life? Her 
quick eyes had seen what his had not discovered — 
a human form lashed to the spar. 

In an instant he was where her small fingers in 
vain essayed to untie the knotted cord. His heavy 


158 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


seaman’s knife, from long habit always ready, was 
out in an instant, and before another great rolling 
sea could wrap them in its slimy folds, the two had 
drawn an old man— or such he seemed by his white 
face and gray hairs — back to where there was 
safety, if there was life. 

And there Lydia knelt, and while her father 
chafed the thin, white hands she lifted the head of 
the senseless man, and from her flask poured stimu- 
lating spirits between his parted lips. 

“God is good!” murmured the old captain, for on 
placing his hand over the heart of the man, he dis- 
tinctly felt a pulsation there. 

And he redoubled his- efforts, aided by his daugh- 
ter, to restore life and consciousness. In a little 
while his eyes opened. He exhibited a sense of 
recognition that he was preserved, even as by a 
miracle. 

Seeing no other one near to claim their aid, the 
father and daughter lifted the man up — he was not 
heavy, though so tall — and carried him back to their 
dwelling. 

There, with dry blankets wrapped around him, he 
was soon able to speak. 

“Am I only saved?” was the first question he 
asked. 

“You alone, sir, in the mercy of the Almighty,” 
said the old captain, reverentially. “ To Him be all 
the praise !” 

“Amen!” said the stranger, in a low, fervent tone. 
Then he added : 

“ It was not written I should perish in the sea. I 
have prayed and yearned that I might live to reach 
Baltimore before I died, that there, where I came 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


159 


into existence, I might meet my end, and, oh! now 
I pray for strength to accomplish that!” 

“Rest with us, my good sir, rest with us until you 
can travel, and we will aid you,” said the old 
captain. 


ICO 


LAUliA BliAYTO'N. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

“HOW COULD HE HAVE DISAPPEARED?” 

When the day dawned on Enoch Sharp, his face 
was ghastly with vindictive rage, and the effects of 
a night of terror and unrest. Until it dawned he 
would not move from the spot where he had crept, 
alongside of the snoring gambler, Bartram. Then 
his courage returned sufficiently for him to get up, 
and with kicks and blows to arouse his companion. 

When the latter, yawning, and groaning with a 
headache, and all the other nameless aches which 
punish the drunkard for his excesses, rose, Sharp 
made him assist in a careful examination of every 
part of the room, especially of the spot where he 
but too distinctly saw the fearful apparition which 
had thrown him into a swoon. 

Nothing, however, rewarded the searqh. There 
was no sign of any presence, or of any artificial 
means of making a picture like that which had so 
terrified him. 

“ Haunted ! Possessed ! There is no more rest for 
me!” groaned the miserable lawyer. 

“And that is why you will not let me rest? Why 
don’t you kill a fellow at once and not murder him 
by inches!” cried Bartram. 

“You’d haunt me too, I suppose!” said Sharp, in 
a hollow tone. 

“You’re a pooty boss, you are!” cried Joe, coming 
in as he always did, unannounced, and without 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


161 


troubling anybody to let him in. “You know that 
chap that went out o’ sight here all of a sudden last 
night — him that is after the gal?” 

“Yes! What of him?” 

“Why, I saw him only a little while ago, riding 
in a carriage with that big bug, Lawyer Johnson.” 

“You are sure?” \ 

“I’m not drunk, and I’m awake, aren’t I?” 

“You look so.” 

“Then I saw him, just as sure as I see you and 
Jake Bartram.” 

“How could he have disappeared? You say he 
could not have passed you with the girl last night?” 

“No, not without he went out like air.” 

“I am utterly astounded. It is like magic, I 
know not how to turn or what to meet. I believe 
I am bewitched — that we are all bewitched. I will 
give a thousand dollars to see him killed ; I care not 
how, to see if he is or is not invulnerable, and a 
thousand more to get that girl in my power!” 

“Good! That is the way to talk. Bid high and 
you’ll be sure to get work done. Don’t say die till 
you’re cold, boss. Bad luck takes a turn when it 
looks the worst. I’m your man till you’re ahead 
of ’em all. You’ve been good pay and I like you.” 

“I ought not to have left that villain, Nathan 
Sloth, off last night,” said the lawyer, thoughtfully. 
“He is a traitor, and as such should have been 
punished. But the rascal is now free, for he will 
never return here to place himself in my power.” 

“What if he don’t? He doesn’t know enough to 
get out of your reach or that of your agents. 
There is but one place where a man can get beyond 
my reach when I’m set on getting him.” 

“And that?” 


162 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“Is the grave!” said the ruffian, ferociously. 
“But I’m wasting time. I saw that chap and 
thought best to let you know of it. Now I’ll know 
what to do when I see him again. If his relations 
can afford it they may as well order mourning.” 

And Joe smiled after his fashion. But it was a 
smile calculated to make one shudder, it was so 
cold, so heartless. 

“Well, go on, and remember all that can be done 
— must be done the day after to-morrow. For on 
that day begins a battle which ends either my fate 
or my mysterious troubles.” 

Joe nodded his head and left the room. 

“What more do you want of me?” asked Bartram. 

“Nothing until that girl is found; but if you 
know what is best for yourself you will keep sober 
and ready for any emergency.” 

“ I suppose I shall have to. A chap with no money 
and no credit can’t get drunk very easy, even in 
Baltimore, without he can hire out in a distillery. 
I’d try and get a job at tending bar, but it is getting 
to be a rule to limit barkeepers, and when I drink I 
can’t stand limits. But if you’ve nothing on hand 
for me I’ll leave.” 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


163 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

“it looks like magic.” 

Laura, wondering at the mystery by which she 
was surrounded, and scarcely knowing how she 
had been so suddenly relieved from the unpleasant 
position in which Enoch Sharp had placed her, 
glanced around the apartment in which she had 
been left by the lady who took Eldridge Putnam 
away. 

It was furnished comfortably, but in a very old 
style. The chairs were massive, cushioned with 
velvet, and carved curiously. The lamp which 
gave light was singularly contrived, hanging by 
the wall, and so arranged that to turn it around 
would altogether conceal its light, thus enabling 
the room to be instantly darkened. Though the 
room was neither cold nor uncomfortable, there 
was a lack of air, or rather a feeling of damp close- 
ness, which, apart from her experience in descend- 
ing a stair-way, told her that it was located under 
ground. 

In a little while the lady came backhand taking 
Laura by the hand, led her to a seat on a curious 
old sofa, and, in a tone of tender interest, led her 
by questions to relate all she knew of her previous 
life. 

The lady listened to her recital with a mournful 
interest, and when at times Laura told how cruel, 
even in her infancy, Sharp had been, tears, indig- 


164 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


nant as well as sympathetic, moistened the lady’s 
cheeks. 

“You have suffered poor child, you have suffered, 
and not you alone, from the acts of that infamous 
wretch. But your triumph, my triumph, is close at 
hand. One day more must we remain quietly 
here — one only — and then boldly shall an appeal be 
made to justice for the rights of the widow and the 
orphan. Yet, perhaps, one lives; but I will not 
hope for that happiness, or allow myself to dream 
of that which cannot be.” 

The lady was interrupted by the appearance of 
one whose face, marked by a deep red scar on one 
cheek, was unknown to Laura. 

“Well, captain, how does it go above?” asked the 
lady. 

“As well, madam, as we could wish for the 
present. Sharp has dismissed his miscreants; all 
the others have gone except Bartram, who is stupid- 
ly drunk, and so remains. Sharp vows he will not 
be driven by terror from his room, and we must use 
one more effort to terrify him. If he sees the spirits 
of those whom he thinks, years ago were sacrificed 
to the spirit of his revenge, it may be more effectual 
in striking terror to his soul. He thoroughly be- 
lieves the house to be haunted. There will be no 
risk in your doing a part which can be easily pre- 
pared for. Every hinge and spring is so oiled that 
the hidden doors can be opened and closed without 
noise, and his terrors increased. It is to him a 
punishment more torturing than any other now in 
our compass. He will be weakened in body and 
mind, and be more ready to succumb under the 
weight of startling evidence, which will move aside 
the power he has so long held to do wrong.” 


LAURA BRAY TON, 


165 


“ Well, captain, I leave you to arrange the minor 
part ; I will first show our young guest where she 
can retire ; for this night she will share my cham- 
ber, so that she can rest and gain quiet and 
strength.” 

And the lady, rising, took Laura by the hand, 
and approached a mirror which seemed set in the 
wall on one side of the room. Pressing one side of 
the frame, it turned in, revealing that it also was 
one of the mysterious doors which gave egress from 
that room into another. 

“All this which causes your eyes to distend with 
wonder will soon be explained, sweet child,” said 
the lady to Laura. “ Here is a place of safety — 
yonder a bed where you can repose without fear. 
You heard what was said in the other room. I 
must be engaged for a little while. But I will soon 
return to watch over you. No one else will enter 
the room.” 

Laura bowed her assent to the desire of her new- 
found friend and protector, and the latter, after 
pressing a kiss upon her forehead, turned and left 
the room, the door through which she went closing 
without noise, and so perfectly that Laura could 
not detect a difference in the wall on that side of 
the room. 

“It looks like magic— like a dream,” she mur- 
mured. “Yet I am not dreaming— my peril was but 
too real— my escape, oh, how fortunate !” 


166 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE ATTEMPT ON PUTNAM’S LIFE. 

“You shuddered just now, Mr. Putnam, as that 
ill-visaged wretch glared in at us through the car- 
riage window.” 

It was Mr. Johnson who said this to Eldridge 
Putnam, for he had seen him shrink back in disgust 
from the half insolent, -half wondering stare of 
Lobster Joe. 

“I might have done so, sir,” said the young man. 
“ For I had seen his face before and remembered it 
but too well. Last night, before my mysterious and 
most providential rescue from a peril which I sup- 
posed would involve a loss of life, if indeed not of 
liberty, I saw him at the head of a swarm of ruffians 
clamoring for blood. He looks to me like a tiger in 
human shape.” 

“He is, and ought to be caged,” said the old 
lawyer. “ It is most likely that he and his employer 
will soon be where they can only damage them- 
selves. But I have now, as we ride toward the 
house of Mr. Withers, time to ask you how you 
were interested in the history I gave you to read 
last night.” 

“ So much so, sir, that sleep scarcely visited my 
eyelids afterward. Indeed, sir, it seems hardly 
possible that it can all be true.” 

“Yet it is, in every point. As I told you, it is 
more strange than the invented fiction of any 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


167 


brain. And as you have in it read of the long, long 
misery caused by a spirit of revenge, of the efforts 
to destroy which failed only by the overruling hand 
of Providence, so also can you see how, by the same 
preserving hand of Providence, those long separated 
are brought together. And you will see the awak- 
ening of the fiend, who has so long gloated over his 
vengeance, to the fallacy of his designs, to the utter 
breaking up of his miserable plot. And it will be a 
triumph indeed. For this wretch has too long been 
loose to prey on humanity.” 

The lawyer now relapsed into silence, which was 
not broken until the carriage stopped in front of the 
residence of Mr. Walter Withers. 

Alighting, the two gentlemen at once passed in, 
and were at once admitted to the presence of the 
old gentleman. He was looking even better and 
happier than before. 

“ Only one day more, sir, only one day more, and 
I can open my heart and arms to those for whom 
you act,” said he to Mr. Johnson. 

“Yes, sir,” replied the lawyer. “I come with my 
young friend, Mr. Putnam, who is in the eyes of the 
law at present an entirely disinterested person, to 
look over all our papers together, so that he may 
understand his duties in the coming case.” 

“Ah, yes; I am glad to see Mr. Putnam.” 

“Your mail, sir,” said a servant, addressing Mr. 
Withers, and laying a package of papers and letters 
on the table before which he was standing. 

The old gentleman bowed his head and glanced 
carelessly at the letters, saying: 

“I will see to them by and by.” 

But there was one with a foreign postmark, which 
attracted his attention. The writing of the super- 


168 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


scription seemed familiar. It had written on it — 
“Bombay mail, by Suez route;” then a stamp and 
English postmark. 

“Excuse me,” said he; “here is a letter from 
abroad, though I have no correspondents whom I 
know of in foreign lands.” 

He opened the letter hastily, and a vivid flush 
came over his face as he read it. There was no 
signature, and only these words : 

“Prepare for a great surprise. One is on the way 
to meet you whom you must have forgotten. The 
ways of the world are mysterious. The dove has 
flown far and wide, but has found no resting-place. 
May this find you well, better than it leaves ” 

As if unintentionally, the letter, or paper, closed 
here without any other word, the line ending in the 
middle of the paper. 

Mr. Withers looked at it long and earnestly. 

“ The writing is very like. But if it were his and 
he lived, he surely would have said more and signed 
his name.” 

“Whose writing does it resemble, if I am not im- 
pertinent?” asked Mr. Johnson, noticing how the 
sight of the letter affected Mr. Withers. 

“That of my lost brother. But were he alive he 
never would have sent me an unfinished letter, nor 
one without his name signed. He was always very 
particular. It must be some cruel attempt to quiz 
me.” 

“No person for a mere joke would go to Bombay 
to mail a letter,” said Mr. Johnson. “Permit me to 
look at it. The foreign marks are not easily counter- 
feited.” 

The letter underwent the inspection of as sharp a 


LAURA BRATTON. 


169 


pair of eyes as ever studied out a forgery case link 
by link. 

“ The postmarks are genuine ; the letter has come 
by the Asiatic and European mail— it smells of 
opium smoke and spices,” said Mr. Johnson. “If 
your brother should yet be living and on his way 
here, it would be marvelous indeed.” 

“It is too much to hope for,” said Mr. Withers. 
“But Heaven is kind, merciful, and just. In God is 
all my trust.” 

“ His return would relieve me of the great respon- 
sibility which you wish me to take,” said Putnam. 

“Yes, sir, and hasten the time when you could 
press a claim which I think will not be contested, 
to occupy the place of a son, rather than that of a 
guardian,” said Mr. Johnson, with a smile. 

Young Putnam smiled faintly, for he had “hoped 
against hope” too long to be confident. 

“If there is anything reliable in the truth con- 
tained in this apparently unfinished letter, there is 
a chance of having even more strength added to 
our cause,” said Mr. Johnson. “But as it is, our 
papers are complete. We have all the original 
schedules of the property left in care of Enoch 
Sharp as an agent only — we have all the original 
points of agreement, every original instruction. 
And where he has deviated but a line from the 
course laid by his instructions, where he has 
claimed as his own property not his, converted its 
profits to funds in his own name, we hold him not 
only for all that, but for damages also. By all that 
I can discover, he owes the estate of Luke Withers 
over two millions of dollars, almost all of which he 
undoubtedly claims as his own. He thinks no heir 
but yourself is alive to claim what he pretends is 


170 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


due, for the plans of vengeance and destruction laid 
out by him were such that failure seemed im- 
possible. 

“But for Providence it would have been. The 
intensity of his hate in preserving one merely to 
persecute, his discovered intention to assassinate a 
tool before all his work was done, his bitterness 
actually overreaching his end, all combine now for 
his overthrow. But, Mr. Withers, I have an en- 
gagement which calls me back to town. I will 
leave Mr. Putnam to arrange with you the docu- 
mentary matters to produce to-morrow, and I will 
go back to my office. Come there, Mr. Putnam, 
after you are through here, for I have a message to 
send to the one who sent you to me. I know you 
will be glad of an opportunity to meet her so soon 
again.” 

The old lawyer now hastened out to his carriage, 
and entering it, drove off. He did not see the 
crouching form of Joe, who, behind some shrubbery 
near the gate, watched him as he came out of the 
house and entered his carriage. 

“Alone, eh? The kid stays behind. So much the 
better. Old meat is tough; the lawyer would be 
hard to handle, old as he is. If the other goes home 
a-foot-back, he’s mine without winking. Or if he 
just shows himself careless, I’m good at a long shot ; 
that I know, for I’ve tried it more than once.” . 

And the ruffian now shifted himself into a clump 
of dense evergreen trees, where, without being seen 
himself, he could so arrange his position as to ob- 
serve the house and all its front approaches. 

Taking a long steel pistol barrel from inside his 
coat, he fitted it to the stock, which he carried 
separate to lessen the bulk, and soon had a weapon 


LAURA BRAYTOtf. 


171 


ready which at a hundred yards, in the hands of a 
marksman, would produce death as surely as it was 
discharged. 

After seeing that it was capped and ready for 
use, and even ranging his eye along its barrel, 
taking for an object the portly form of a servant ' 
who was sweeping the marble steps in front of the 
mansion, he muttered : 

“She is ready and so am I. Now let the kid show 
himself. I reckon that thousand is as good as mine, 
Mr. Sharp. I’ll have one off the list of them that 
are bucking against you afore I wet my lips with 
anything better than this.” 

And the ruffian drew a flask from his pocket and 
drank. 

“Bah!” said he, as he put the flask back in his 
pocket. “ That stuff they call brandy, but it is as , 
weak as dish-water. It takes turpentine gin to 
warm a fellow up. Curse that dog! I’ll have to 
get him out of the way, or shift my quarters. If I 
shoot him while the servants are about, it will stop 
my chances, and if I don’t, he is on my track and 
will scent me out.” 

The last remark was caused by the appearance of 
one of those large liver-colored, deep-chested dogs 
so much liked in Cuba and in the South, known as 
the blood-hound, a breed remarkable for sagacity, 
keenness of smell, and ferocity, where not trained 
very carefully to friendly contact with the human 
race. It had been circling around the grounds 
until it had reached the spot where Joe had entered 
them, and now, after scenting the track a moment, 
with nose down, it was slowly approaching his place 
of concealment. 

As it came nearer and Joe saw its size, its savage 


172 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


look, and looking toward the house, saw that 
several servants were moving about the grounds, so 
near that a pistol-shot would instantly attract them, 
he laid down the pistol which he at first seemed 
inclined to use, and hastily taking off his coat, 
wrapped it around his left arm, and then drew with 
his right a long, murderous, double-edged knife or 
dagger. 

Hardly breathing, his teeth close set together, a 
fierce, savage look in his face, he watched the animal 
as, the scent freshening, it increased its speed. 

A moment more, and bursting in through the 
thick branches of cedar and pine, the animal was 
before him. 

A second its fiery eyes glared at the intruder, 
then, without noise, open-mouthed, it bounded at 
his throat. 

Thrusting his left arm with the speed of light in 
between the open jaws of the fierce beast, Joe, even 
as he fell back under its weight and onslaught, 
drove the knife to the hilt in behind the shoulder of 
the beast, and both came to the earth together, the 
blood spouting all over him as he withdrew the 
knife only to bury it again and again in the 
body above him. 

The repeated blows were unnecessary. The first 
had done the work. The dog was dead, and getting 
out from under the bleeding body, the ruffian un- 
wrapped the coat from his arm, which despite the 
covering had been punctured by the fangs of the 
ferocious animal. 

“Twas well for me I thought o’ that!” Joe mut- 
tered, as he looked at his arm and the perforated 
coat. “A chap with them jaws on his throat would 
never squeak but once!” 


LAURA BRATTON. 


113 

And now he saw a fresh cause of alarm. Two 
more dogs of the same breed, evidently companions 
of the first, were playing around near the house. 

“If they strike my track, I’m a goner!” he mut- 
tered. “ I could manage one ; but two at once would 
cook my turnips. I must slope. Skeedaddle is the ' 
word !” 

And, taking a direction which kept the clump of 
trees between him and observation, he swiftly fled 
from the spot and gained the high-road by clamber- 
ing over the iron picket fence which bounded the 
inclosure. 

A mournful howl but a moment afterward told 
him that the other dogs had discovered their dead 
companion, and then he instantly remembered that 
in his haste he had forgotten his pistol, that which 
he kept for a long range, though he yet had his 
revolver in his pocket. 

Feeling that the farther he got from that neigh- 
borhood then the safer it would be, he fled away 
through a straggling piece of woods, purposely 
crossing a shallow pond of water to lose his trail, 
until he reached another road leading to the city. 
At a spring near this, he washed off all the stains of 
blood that he could, re-arranged his dress, and then 
boldly walking along the road asked a ride from a 
market man going in with his wagon. An hour 
afterward he was ensconced in a position from 
which he could see all who went into, or came out 
of Lawyer Johnson’s house or office. 

“I’ve all of to-day and to-night yet to win the 
thousand for the life of the young ’un, and I’ll have 
it!” he muttered. “If it hadn’t been for the dogs, 
I’d have got him out there. But dogs, ’specially 
blood-hounds are nuisances to the trade. I’m glad 


174 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


there’s a law agin’ ’em going unmuzzled in the 
streets.” 


CHAPTER XXXYI. 

THE INVALID JOURNEYS HOMEWARD. 

The storm was over. The sky, like a dirty face 
well washed with contrite tears, was cloudless once 
more, and the great waves broken, and with their 
strength gone, were tumbling about in fragmentary 
weakness, bearing here and there some sad relics of 
the storm’s devastating fury. 

In the dwelling allotted to the light-house keeper 
and his family, the invalid whom we saw first fret- 
ting at the appearances of delay in the completion 
of his voyage, and next, lifted by the merciful hand 
of Providence from the fate which overwhelmed 
the young, the brave, and the beautiful who had 
been his late companions, was being carefully pre- 
pared for a journey by the hands of those who had 
been instrumental in saving his life. 

The old captain had put upon his slender form his 
great warm sea-cloak, and had incased his feet in 
canvas shoes lined with fur, and now Lydia Gard- 
ner was trying one of her own scarfs around his 
neck, while on a chair, the best hat of her father 
was ready for his head. 

For the few garments which he had on when 
swept to the shore were in no way fitted to envelope 
so frail a form as his on a journey. 

That he was to have company was apparent, for 
the young lady was herself dressed for traveling. 

“I do not know howl can ever repay one -half 
your kindness,” said the old gentleman ; “but if my 
property is even as I left it, I shall be able to give 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


175 


pecuniary recompense. But money can never weigh 
down the scale against gratitude. To you, good 
captain, for all you have done, and in what you are 
now doing, to allow your dear child to watch over 
me till I can get to the home I have striven to reach, 
I feel I owe a debt which neither words nor gifts 
can ever pay.” 

“Tut, tut! Avast all such talk, sir! We are only 
following out the good old rule to do as we’d be 
done by,” said the old captain. “Liddy likes to be 
doin’ good. It’s a second natur’ to her. She’s just 
as her mother used to be. I’d been a miserable, 
good-for-nothin’ old drunkard if it hadn’t been for 
her mother. And now that she has gone above into 
Heaven's snug harbor, Liddy takes her place in 
keeping me right side up with care and strong from 
the tempting habits which have stranded many a 
one as strong as me, who hadn’t the same help to 
haul off from the quicksands of danger.” 

“ Father makes too much of me,” said the daugh- 
ter, with a smile. “ He is naturally so good-hearted 
that he thinks all I do is perfect. But, sir, I hear 
the cart at the door. It is not an easy way of riding, 
but till we get away from the sands we can get no 
other conveyance. Good-by, dear father, for a little 
while. I will return just as soon as I can, and hope 
to find you. as well as now.” 

“Good-by, Liddy, good-by, my gal. ’Twould be 
hard to see you go if I didn’t know ’twas your duty 4 
and that you would soon be back, by the blessing of 
our Father.” 

And the old captain pressed his daughter to his 
brawny breast and kissed her, while his lips quiv ; 
ered and his eyes glistened with moisture in spite 
of his effort to conceal feelings so intense, 


176 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


Then he went out and helped his guest into the 
mule-cart, such as is generally used in that section, 
and then “Liddy” sprang in lightly, and the little 
negro driver started his mule with a slap of the 
rope reins on its hindquarters, which produced an 
uprising of its heels which nearly reached his sharp 
shin-bones as he sat on the front-board. But the 
start was made, and along over the snow-white 
sand the journey toward Baltimore was commenced. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


177 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

“I HAVE GIVEN LIFE FOR LIFE! 

With hungry eyes, still as a statue of beggary, 
Joe stood in a narrow alley for hours watching for 
the return of young Putnam, for he felt confident 
that he would return to the office of the lawyer. It 
was almost night when his patience was rewarded. 
Twice only, in all this time, had he ventured from 
the spot where he had ensconced himself, and then 
only so far as the stand of a woman who sold apples 
and cakes a few yards away. Hither hunger had 
drawn him, and with a few coppers he had bought 
something to still its cravings. 

When at last he did see his intended victim, as he 
sprang from the carriage in which he had returned, 
and which after leaving him was driven off, he 
could not repress a low cry of delight, which from 
its singularity reached the ears of the apple woman, 
who had more than once noticed him standing in 
the alley-way, perhaps not without apprehension, 
for small as is the gain of such a trade, it is always 
enough to* tempt the cupidity of those who make of 
robbery a trade and a business. 

And after that, though not appearing to do so, 
she kept a constant watch upon the gaunt, ferocious- 
looking creature, and more than once felt an incli- 
nation to leave her stand before the shades of night 
came upon her, though she generally remained 
there until eight or nine o’clock at night, for her 


178 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


best chance of profit came from those who, having 
been at labor during the day, moved to and fro a 
little while in the early evening. 

But the lamp-lighter came early, a street lamp 
shone directly over her stand, and she gathered 
courage as the passing by became more and more 
frequent, and her consequent gains increased. 

But she still watched the man who crouched there 
in the alley-way, and she shuddered once when she 
distinctly saw him draw out a large, bright knife, 
and pass his finger along its edge. 

It was an hour, maybe, when she saw him move 
out suddenly and stealthily from the alley and come 
toward her stand. At first she thought he was 
going to approach, as usual, to purchase; but she 
saw him look intently at the tall and graceful form 
of a young man who was just before him, and, with 
his hand thrust into his bosom, where she had seen 
him return the knife, follow his steps. 

The young man came on so close that she saw his 
face, and a look of surprise, joyful surprise, beamed 
from her countenance, and she seemed about to 
rush out and speak to him. But he was walking 
fast and close to him followed the strange man, 
with such a cruel look that, all forgetful of her 
interests, she hurried on to warn the young man of 
what she intuitively felt was his danger. *For, after 
seeing the face which was bent on him, the form so 
quickly following him, she felt that nothing short 
of a murder was intended. 

Swiftly she followed; but none too fast; for just 
as the next corner was reached, she saw the hand 
of the ruffian suddenly raised, close behind the back 
of the young man, 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


179 


With a wild scream of alarm, quick as thought, 
she sprang and grasped the uplifted arm. 

In an instant, the wretch, finding it in vain while 
she clung there to strike him whom he meant to 
kill, turned on her and drove the knife into her 
breast. 

It was but the work of a second, yet in a crowded 
street, not only the young man, but many more 
turned upon him; but it was too late. With the 
agility of an eel, squirming from the hands out- 
stretched to seize him, the murderous wretch 
plunged through the crowd, and while young Put- 
nam lifted the young woman up, the blood gushing 
in torrents over his hands, she gasped out : 

“Thank Heaven! I have given life for life! You 
saved me and my child ; I could not let him kill 
you!” 

Then the young man recognized the woman he 
had saved from the fire, and instantly carrying her 
into a drug store close at hand, called for medical 
aid to stanch the wound. But all effort was useless. 
She lived long enough to tell how she had seen the 
man lurking near by all day nearly, how she had 
seen his knife, and afterward his murderous look 
as he followed one whom she recognized as he 
passed, and whom she had indeed saved at the cost 
of her own life. Long enough, also, to confide her 
child to the care of him who had before saved its 
life, and then she died, with a smile on her wan 
face. 

Eldridge Putnam, sad at witnessing that which 
he could not prevent, washed the stains from his 
hands, and gave orders to have the body removed 
to an undertaker’s. He also employed a nurse recom- 
mended by the druggist, who fortunately lived over 


180 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


the store, to go and take charge of the child, which 
had been left in the care of a poor neighbor, in a 
locality described by the dying woman. 

This done, though much time had elapsed, he 
started on the visit which he had in view when he 
left the office of Mr. Johnson. He had no doubt in 
his own mind about the reason of his attempted 
assassination, and that Enoch Sharp was at the 
bottom of the affair ; but he comforted himself with 
the thought that it had failed, and that by another 
day he might see retribution reaching the guilty 
wretch who had instigated it. 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


181 


CHAPTER XXXYill. 

‘‘I’M fairly broken down.” 

Enoch Sharp was in his office alone — sitting at his 
table looking gloomily at a pile of papers. 

“Copies! copies!” he muttered. “The originals 
gone. I have deed mortgages, bills of sale, but for 
forgery as for murder there is a penalty. Death 
can come but once. To be locked up in a prison 
cell, to work under brutal keepers in a State prison 
were worse than a hundred deaths. Must I yield? 
Must I be conquered? No, no, I will fight to the 
last and then die before I will give in! Ah, you 
here, blood on your hands ! Have you killed any of 
them ?” 

This last cry, drawn from the lawyer by the 
sudden entrance of Joe, all breathless from the 
haste with which he fled from the spot where he 
had killed the poor apple woman, was given so 
loud that Joe, with his hand all bloody, pressed over 
the mouth of the lawyer, cried out : 

“Hush! you old fool, hush! It is enough that 
I’ve killed somebody without you blabbing it out so 
it can be heard half a mile!” 

“ Ugh ! The blood stifles me ! Who is dead?” said 
the lawyer, with a shudder, as Joe removed his 
hand. 

“ A fool of a woman who kept me from making a 
thousand dollars at a single lick. I had that fellow 
that got off with the gal right under the point of a 


182 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


knife that never fails, when she clutched my arm 
and screamed out the alarm. I couldn’t get my 
knife into him, but I paid her for interfering, with 
the full length of it. I’m here, but he isn’t where 
he ought to be. If it hadn’t been for her I’d been 
able to write the receipt for the thousand with a 
bloody finger. As it is I must wait. I’ve worked 
hard enough— run risks enough for it, Satan knows. 
I came near being eat up alive by blood-hounds this 
morning, and if it hadn’t been for my legs I’d be in 
quod to-night.” 

“Bad luck, nothing but bad luck lately!” groaned 
the lawyer. “Everything looks dark. Haunted, 
beaten at every point — I am fairly broken down!” 

“Broke down with lots of money left? Broke 
down with lots of good rum to drink? Broke down 
with such a friend as me to stick to you to the bitter 
end of all? Gas! Take a drink and wake up. 
Show me a place to wash off this coloring matter, 
and then hand out the bottle and we’ll make a lively 
night of it yet. I’m not afraid of your ghosts — give 
me plenty of rum and I’ll shake hands with a house 
full of ’em ! They’ll not make me shiver and shake 
as you do!” 

Enoch Sharp envied that blood-stained wretch 
his sang froid — envied him his brute courage, his 
recklessness, his insensibility to remorse. And he 
looked at him with wonder, too. For he could 
hardly realize that any human being could be so 
utterly indifferent to the result of bloodshed and 
wrong-doing. 

He pointed to a recess in the room where a basin, 
water, soap, and towels offered convenience^ for re- 
moving the blood which stained the hands of Joe, 


LAURA BRAYTOK 


183 


and in a mirror glancing at his own face, spotted 
with crimson stains, hurried to remove them. 

After Joe had washed, Sharp went and got a bottle 
of liquor and a single glass, and placing them on 
the table, told the wretch to help himself. 

“What!” exclaimed Joe, “aren’t you going to 
drink, too?” 

“No; I must keep my head clear for to-morrow. 
I have enough, and more than enough, to do with 
a clear mind ; to muddle it with liquor would make 
matters worse than they are.” 

“Well, you know best, boss. When I’ve got a 
bad job ahead I just get two-thirds full, and then 
I’m as right as a policeman in a sugar-hogshead 
when it rains brickbats.” 

And Joe very independently took the bottle in his 
hand, and scorning the measured aid of the tum- 
bler, drank without using it. 

“That’s tolerable grog,” he said, smacking his lips 
with the air of a connoisseur. 


184 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

PUTNAM TELLS OF HIS ESCAPE. 

“Do your hours pass wearily?” asked the lady 
who sat in the subterranean room with Laura. 

“No. The stories you have told me about the sea, 
and the sunny land of flowers where you have 
dwelt so long, and that beautiful island from which 
you came, have deeply interested me, so much so 
that I have not counted time.” 

“That island would have been a paradise had it 
been a chosen home,” said the lady, with a sigh. 
“ But when one must stay, there is no content in 
even a paradise. A prison, with every luxury in 
life, is still a prison, because liberty is not there.” 

Laura looked wonderingly up in the great, earnest 
eyes of the lady. 

“My words and story are yet in a degree shrouded 
in a mystery, my dear girl,” said she. “But the 
time is close at hand when }t can all be cleared 
away, when you will know all of my past history, 
know that also which I hope will repay you in hap- 
piness for some of the great sorrow which has 
darkened your young life. Be cheerful, be hopeful, 
the vail will soon be raised.” 

“Is Mr. Putnam coming back here?” asked Laura. 

“I expect him,” said the lady. “The lawyer to 
whom I sent certain important papers will probably 
wish to communicate with me. I do not wish the 
captain to leave his post, for if that fiend in human 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


185 


shape, Enoch Sharp, should discover the secrets of 
this house, and learn that his tormentors are not 
supernatural, I should need stronger protection than 
my own weak arm. Captain Hawk is brave and 
faithful ; I do not fear, while he is near to protect 
me, for I have proved his honor and his faith.” 

“Hark! there is a noise against the wall,” said 
Laura. 

“Yes, some one is approaching from the outside 
entrance. If he is a friend he will respond to my 
signal.” 

And rising, the lady struck lightly twice upon 
the wall. 

Her signal was followed by seven slow, distinct 
knocks. 

“It is Mr. Putnam,” said the lady, “or some mes- 
senger from Mr. Johnson, for that is the signal his 
messenger was directed to use. Yet I will be cau- 
tious, and summon the captain to open the door.” 

She rang a single note on a bell, and in a moment 
the man with the red scar appeared. 

“Ho not detain me here,” he said; “the ruffian 
whom Enoch Sharp hires for bloody purposes has 
just entered, and I do not wish to be absent from a 
position where I can learn all his plans.” 

“I will not detain you, captain, but open and see 
who is there.” 

And the lady pointed to the side of the wall where 
the knocking had been heard. 

Placing one hand in a pocket, as if upon some 
weapon, the captain touched a spring with the other, 
and the secret door flew open. 

Eldridge Putnam at once stepped forward. 

“It is all right,” said the lady. “You can return 
to your post, captain.” 


186 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


Hawk at once went back, and Putnam, advanc- 
ing, took Laura’s extended hand, while he bowed 
low and respectfully to the lady. 

“You look pale and agitated,” said the lady. 
“Has anything happened?” 

“Nothing to affect your interests, madam. But a 
sad occurrence, which, while I have my life to 
thank for it, leaves - an icy gloom on my heart. A 
poor woman whom I was lately so fortunate as to 
rescue from death in a burning house, was killed 
but a few minutes since while saving me from an 
assassin’s knife. Failing in his object of destroying 
me, he drove his knife to the hilt in her body.” 

“He was one of Sharp’s tools?” 

“Undoubtedly* He escaped arrest at the time, 
but he is well known to the police, and he shall 
not escape if money can procure his arrest. And I 
find, young as I am, that if justice is blind, her 
officers are not, to the color of money, at any rate.” 

“ Alas ! that knowledge comes to young and old 
alike, if they seek for justice,” said the lady. “ Laura 
has described to me the event of rescuing a woman 
and child. Was this the mother?” 

“ It was, and to-night, with her dying breath, the 
poor woman confided her child to my care.” 

“It is a holy trust,” said the lady. “One who 
knows the history of our poor Laura there knows 
how hard it is for a little one to grow up without a 
mother’s care and love. And none but a mother 
may know the dreadful agony of leaving alone in 
the world the babe of her bosom. But she, at least, 
is beyond her pain. She cannot know the most ter- 
rible of all agonies, the separation in life from those 
we love.” 

Captain Hawk re-entered the room. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


187 


“ Were you assaulted but a little while since in 
the street?” he asked of young Putnam. 

“I was just informing this lady of the fact and of 
the murder of a poor woman who arrested the hand 
raised to slay me,” said the latter. 

“And I have just heard the ruffian boasting of his 
deed,” said the captain. “It is not a minute since 
that he was washing the blood of his victim from 
his hands and cursing the misfortune which pre- 
vented him from earning a thousand dollars by 
slaying you, for that is the price Sharp puts on your 
life.” 

“The villains! Can we not go and have both ar- 
rested? The murderer of that poor woman must not 
escape!” cried Putnam, hastily. 

“He shall not. He thinks he is unknown. But 
we have him in our power, and can afford to wait. 
When his master is at our mercy, we will also have 
him by the heels. Our patience will be rewarded 
by success. I can almost see the end— a triumph 
which will repay long years of wrong and of suffer- 
ing.” 

“But I will go back to my post. While those 
wretches are together they must be watched.” 

“Let me go with you, captain,” said Putnam. 

“Ho, it is not best. You are young ; the least noise, 
the simplest ejaculation, might lead him to discover 
that real and not supernatural causes for his terror 
are in existence, and should he discover any of the 
secrets which are now our advantage, it might de- 
stroy all our plans, even if it did not endanger our 
lives. Remain here, watch, while the ladies retire 
to a rest which they will need, for the events of the 
morrow will be exciting. Should anything occur 
that should be known here, I will return.” 


188 


LAURA BRATTON. 


CHAPTER XL. 

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 

Moodily, Enoch Sharp sat down and looked at 
Joe, as the latter, after taking several lengthy pulls 
at the brandy bottle, related in full all the particu- 
lars of the day. 

The latter had just concluded the narration when 
there was a ring heard at the door-bell. 

“Who can want anything here at this time of 
night?” said the lawyer. 

“ They're after me for stickin’ the woman — that’s 
what’s the matter!” cried Joe. “But they sha’n’t 
have me. I’ll die first !” 

“ Hide— they ’ll ring again— hide ! cried Sharp. 

“Where?” asked Joe, turning white; for if the 
recent deed was brought home to him, he knew he 
must swing. 

“In my large safe. I see no other place. No one 
can enter that without the key, and no one shall 
find it on me.” 

“ Quick, then, and open it ! I hear them ringing 
again.” 

In a moment Sharp threw open the door of a safe, 
in which Joe could stand upright. The latter step- 
ped in, and Sharp closed the door. Then he hid the 
key under the carpet, and went to open the door. 

He left the light on the table, and went to the 
front door in the dark. 

A man, wrapped in a large cloak, and a female, 
closely vailed, stood on the step. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


189 


“Who lives here?” asked the man, in a tremu- 
lous, anxious tone. 

“Enoch Sharp, Esquire!” replied the lawyer. 
“What do you want?” 

“ I want to talk to Enoch Sharp, Esquire, said the 
person, slowly, but more emphatic in tone than at 
first. 

“Well, talk away; I’m here in propria per sonne, as 
we say in Latin.” 

“ I prefer looking at a man when I talk with him, 
especially when my business is important,” said the 
stranger. 

“Important business, eh? Something that will 
pay? Come in, sir, and madam, come in. I never 
neglect business.” 

The lawyer hurried back to his library, or office, 
followed by his visitors. There he turned to look at 
the man, who, lifting his hat, revealed a pale, care- 
worn face, which seemed to produce a terrible effect 
on Sharp. For an instant, with distended eyes, 
with a look of unfeigned terror, he stood trembling, 
and then shrieked out : 

“Are you the spirit of Luke Withers, come to 
mock me in my distress? Why do you persecute 
me? Who is she? I saw Annie and her child last 
night! Is she come again to torment me?” 

“Enoch Sharp, do you not know me? I am no 
mockery, no illusion. I am Luke Withers, come 
back to claim my own, and to die where I was born.” 

“Not dead? Not a ghost? May I feel of your 
hand?” asked the lawyer, seeming to shake less 
than at first. 

“Yes. There, do you not see that what is left of 
me is flesh and blood? This young lady is an angel 
of mercy, who has been instrumental in saving my 


190 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


life, and who has been so kind as to see me safe 
once moi'e under my own roof.” 

And the old man reached out his hand to Sharp. 

“Your own roof? Oh, yes. Why, it is you, I do 
believe, Mr. Withers, and l am so glad to see you 
are back. Your brother was here reeently, and he 
and I were talking about you. We had both given 
you up as dead, it was so long since you had been 
heard from. Why, full sixteen years have rolled 
by without a sign or token from you.” 

“Yes, yes. What had I to live for?” said Mr. 
Withers, gloomily. 

“ Oh, a great deal, in the way of property, as I’ll 
show you after you have rested from the effects of 
your journey, for you evidently have come a long 
distance, and are tired.” 

“Yes, very tired, and must have rest; but not till 
I see Walter.” 

“Oh, you will not think of seeing him to-night 
and he so far out of town. But in the morning I 
will dispatch a man who will bring him here long 
before the breakfast hour. Let me show you and 
the lady to apartments where you can rest for the 
night. Fortunately for her, my housekeeper is 
absent, and has left a nice room in perfect order, 
and for you, my dear sir, the most comfortable room 
in the house is ready.” 

So smooth and kind, so apparently anxious for his 
comfort, no wonder the tired old man felt willing to 
heed his advice. 

“You are right, my good Sharp, rest is necessary 
to give me strength. I will do as you say. And 
Miss Lydia here, unused to traveling, is very tired. 
She, too, needs rest.” 

Oh, how the face of Enoch Sharp flushed ! and his 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


*91 


eyes glowed as he saw the poor old man so readily 
acquiesced in a plan which had leaped into his mind 
in a second, and which was but too necessary, to 
carry out a most wicked scheme. 

So, taking a light, he at once made his guests— if 
such they could be called — follow him into the other 
part of the house. 


192 


LAURA BRA YTON.j 


CHAPTER XLI. 

THE MURDERER’S FATE. 

It was nearly or perhaps quite an hour before 
Enoch Sharp returned to his library. When he did 
so the full fiendishness of his real nature was ex- 
pressed in his face. 

“Satan stands by me yet!” he said, in soliloquy. 
“Luke Withers, alive and ready to demand in per* 
son a full account of my stewardship, and a state- 
ment of all that the estate has gained, would ruin 
me. But here he is, safe under this roof, and as I 
gathered by subtle questionings, not a soul in the 
city beside myself knows of the arrival of himself 
and his companion. Nor shall that arrival ever be 
known. Their eyes must never open to the light of 
day. I have work for Joe now, which will suit him. 
How fortunate that he is here. I will give him a 
job that he will gloat over. I would spare the girl 
if I could, for she is beautiful; but it will not do. 
The secret of their arrival can only he kept by the 
grave. I will have the counsel of Joe as to the best 
step now.” 

Bending down, the lawyer took the key of his 
safe from its hiding-place and opened the massive 
wide door. 

“Come out, Joe,” he said. “The coast is clear and 
I have news, great news, and work, too, for you!” 

Joe neither came out nor answered. 

Startled, Sharp seized the lamp from the table 
and looked in. He would have shrieked out had not 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


193 


horror silenced him, so terrible was the sight he saw. 

There, with his eyes wildly staring at him, his 
face purple with the hue of suffocation and horrible 
in its distortion, rigid already — upright against the 
shelves of the safe, was the dead body of the ruffian ! 

Fully an hour and a half in that double-doored, 
air-tight safe, what else but death could have oc- 
curred? Too closely confined to make noise enough 
to be heard, perhaps at first afraid, and then too 
weak to do it, for nothing destroys strength so sud- 
denly as suffocation. 

“Dead?” groaned Enoch Sharp, at last. 

“Dead!” came in a hollow groan through the 
room. 

“Great Heaven! am I never to rest?” moaned the 
lawyer. 

“Never! never!” came the echo, in the same hol- 
low, terrible voice. 

“Fiends! mock me as you will, I will conquer! 
If this man’s arm is gone, my own shall do the deed. 
I will not let Luke Withers live to rob me of my 
years of savings, years of toil. Alone — alone I will 
do the ” 

“Murder!” 

The word was spoken for him, and, gaspingly, he 
moaned it out again : 

“Yes, the murder!” 

“Ha, ha, ha!” 

That horrible, mocking laugh was too much for 
him. He fled from the room, but only to a closet 
where he could get a drink ; for in stimulants alone 
could he gather courage now. 

Glass after glass of strong brandy was taken by 
Enoch Sharp before he cold return to the room. 


194 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


When he did so, he found the safe locked and the 
key gone. 

“Oh, misery!” he groaned. “What can this 
mean? Is this fearful secret known to some one? 
Is the body there or not? I dare not have the safe 
opened. Satan is leagued against me at last.” 

Again that horrible, mocking 

“Ha, ha, ha, ha!” 

Wild with terror, afraid to fly and afraid to stay, 
the miserable wretch actually drank the remaining 
part of a bottle of brandy which he had opened 
after his dreadful discovery of the corpse in the 
safe. 

The fiery spirit ran wildly through his horror- 
frozen veins ; his eyes flashed, his color came back. 

“Laugh, you devils, laugh !” he shouted. “I am 
equal to you all Blood — blood ! I will drink blood ! 
What care I for ghosts or corpses? Ha, ha! Luke 
Withers, your time has come! You have come 
back to rob me, but you shall not, no, you shall die !” 

With a horrible earnestness, he went to the case 
where he kept his razors. One of these he took out, 
and, as he felt its edge with his finger, a ghastly 
smile of satisfaction lighted his face. 

“I must wait a little while. He will sleep— sleep 
sound, for he is tired. And the girl— her room is 
over his— she will not hear, for I will make no noise. 
If she does, what matter, for she, too, must die. 
How lucky that I got rid of Nathan Sloth. He 
would have to go, too, where his tongue could do no 
harm. But I must keep the fire up, or I shall be too 
weak in body and heart.” 

And he went after another bottle of liquor. Open- 
ing this, he drank again, and then, taking off his 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


195 


boots so as to step noiselessly, he took the razor and 
his lamp and left the room. 

An instant after, as noiselessly as he, two shad- 
owy forms followed his steps. Did his heart beat 
so loud he could not hear them? 


196 


LAVRA BRAY TON, 


CHAPTER XLII. 

.RETRIBUTION. 

When Lydia Gardner was shown to a chamber by 
the lawyer, she at once saw that it had been ten- 
anted by one of her sex ; not only because sundry 
toilet articles and wearing apparel were left, but, 
withered from want of water and care, were several 
pots of flowers. 

Seating herself in a chair by a window through 
which she could see the gas-lamps on the street, she 
began to reflect. There was an ominous chill run- 
ning through her veins, an indefinable dread, a 
sense of danger which she could not cast off, neither 
could she comprehend its cause. 

Reared in Christian faith, she knelt and asked the 
protection of Him who is all-powerful. Even then 
she could not, did not feel at ease. An unknown 
terror was absorbing her mind. Her heart beat so 
loud that its throbbing sounded like the steps of 
some one walking. 

“ This is awful,” she murmured. “It seems as if I 
was in the presence of death. I did not like the 
face of that lame man. There were so many 
changes in it. At first he seemed to be dumb with 
terror. He thought poor old Mr. Withers was not 
alive, but a ghost. And then, though there was a 
glare more like the fire of hate than of love in his 
eyes, he became suddenly so fawningly obsequious 
that it was not natural. I fear he has some deadly 
intent in his bosom. Would it be right for me to 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


197 


arouse Mr. Withers to my fears? If no danger ap- 
peared, it would be wrong and childish, but if evil 
happened, and I had neglected to warn him while 
my soul was full of dread, I should never forgive 
myself. 

She had not undressed, and now she arose and cau- 
tiously went to the door of her room. She knew 
that directly at the foot of the first flight of stairs 
was the door of his room. A few steps would take 
her to it. Perhaps he had not retired. She would 
go as far as the door and listen. If he was yet up 
she would hear him moving. Then, making some 
excuse, she could enter and tell him what fearful 
impressions were weighing on her mind. 

Thus reflecting, she went down the stairs and 
paused at the door of the chamber into which Sharp 
had conducted Mr. Withers. 

It was ajar; she pushed it slightly open ; a lamp 
was burning within, but the heavy breathing of Mr. 
Withers told that he was asleep. She saw the bed, 
one of those old-fashioned structures, with four 
lofty posts and curtained from the ceiling to the 
floor. 

Hark ! She heard the creaking of a door below — 
some one was approaching in that direction. She 
could not ascend the stairs unseen. Quick as 
thought she entered the room, closed the door as it 
had been, and sprang behind the curtains at the 
head of the bed. 

She stood there but an instant, trembling, when 
the door by which she had entered was pushed open 
and Enoch Sharp limped in, his face flushed with 
liquor, his eyes wild and fierce, a lamp in one hand, 
a razor in the other. 

His intentions were but too evident, as noiselessly 


198 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


he advanced and setting his lamp on the table, 
paused for an instant, looking toward the bed. 

Her veins, seemed frozen with horror. She could 
not cry out — she could not move a limb. 

Sharp hesitated but an instant. He had paused to 
listen to the regular breathing, which told too 
plainly how soundly the old man slept. And now, 
stealthily and slowly, he moved toward the bed to 
make that sleep eternal. 

With the open razor glitteing in his right hand, 
he parted the curtains with his left, and looked 
down on the helpless form reclining there. 

Lydia Gardner, nerveless, dumb with horror, 
stood and saw him rajse his hand above his victim ; 
she closed her eyes — it was all she could do. 

Then suddenly a piercing shriek broke from her 
lips, for she heard a gurgling cry, a struggle, and 
wild, bitter curses from the lawyer’s lips. 

“Murder! Murder!” she screamed, and now her 
eyes were wide open, but the room was wrapped in 
darkness. 

An instant the struggling continued, then all was 
silent for one dreadful moment. 

Then a voice which she knew well to be that of 
Mr. Luke Withers, exclaimed: 

“What is all this? Who is here? Speak! Who 
is here?” 

“I am near you, sir; but are you not hurt?” ex- 
claimed the young lady. 

“Ho, I am not hurt. But I was awakened by ter- 
rible screams. What does it mean? Who are you? 
Your voice sounds like that of my good Miss 
Gardner.” 

“ I am Lydia Gardner, sir. But the light is out. 
That lame man, Sharp, was trying to murder you. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


199 


His hand was stretched out to slay you. I shut my 
eyes and screamed — then I heard a struggle. Now 
all is still.” 

“No — there is some one in the room. I hear a 
sound on the floor!” said the old man. “There are 
matches on the table if you can but find them.” 

“I will try,” said the young lady. 

And she moved as she thought in the right direc- 
tion. But an instant after, her feet came in contact 
with a body on the floor, and unable to control her 
terror, she shrieked wildly again and again. 

“What is the matter? Why do you scream?” 
cried Mr. Withers. 

Oh, I know not. I think there is a corpse on the 
floor!” she cried. 

Heavy steps and then voices were now heard, the 
sounds growing louder each moment, and in a few 
seconds more the door opened and a policeman in 
uniform, with a lantern in hand, followed by two 
more officers, entered. 

“What is up here? Murder, or what?” cried the 
policeman, as he hurried forward, the rays of light 
falling on a body stretched out upon the floor. 

“Murder has been attempted,” cried Mr. Withers, 
springing from the bed with a quilt wrapped around 
his form. “And there lies the would-be assassin, 
secured in some mysterious way it seems.” 

And he pointed to Enoch Sharp, who, with a 
razor yet grasped in his hand, lay prone upon the 
floor bound hand and foot, with a handkerchief 
stuffed in his mouth so that lie could not speak. 

“What does all this mean?” exclaimed the be- 
wildered officer. 

“It means that this wretch, who has been the 
agent in charge of my property during my years of 


200 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


absence in foreign lands, intended to murder me 
here under my own roof, in the bed to which he 
saw me retire scarcely an hour ago. There is a wit- 
ness, gentlemen — hear her story.” 

And Mr. Withers pointed to Lydia Gardner. 

She at once told of .the sensations and impressions 
which caused her to leave her room above, at her 
fright on hearing some one approach the room, of 
her hasty concealment, and then of the terrible 
sight of the approaching assassin creeping upon his 
intended victim. How until the moment when she 
saw the weapon uplifted she had been powerless to 
speak or move— then that she cried murder as she 
heard what She supposed to be the death struggle. 

“We heard that cry!” said one of the officers. 
“It was that which drew us to the house.” 

Then Mr. Withers told that he was awakened by 
the cry, and heard the bitter, half-choked curses of 
Sharp, but all was dark, and he knew not what was 
going on, or who was near until the young lady 
spoke. 

“The case is plain; murder has been intended. 
But who secured him? Why are those who tied 
and gagged him, absent? For neither of you could 
have done it in the dark.” 

And the officers looked around bewildered, and 
then taking the razor from his hand, lifted Sharp 
into a chair. 

“What does this all mean?” asked one of the offi- 
cers, as he removed the gag from the mouth of the 
almost suffocated lawyer. 

Sharp looked wildly around him, but he did not 
speak. 

“Why did you wish to kill me, Enoch Sharp?” 
asked Luke Withers. 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


201 


“Curse you — you have come back to rob me!” he 
hissed, fiendishly. “The fiends of perdition have 
thwarted me and saved you ! One blow, one only, 
and you would have been out of my way.” 

“He acknowledges it!” cried the officer. “We 
have but one duty — he must go to the lock-up.” 

“Never! I’ll die first. I am rich. I can give 
bail !” he gasped. “Iam a millionaire. That man 
is not Luke Withers — he is an impostor!” 

“That has nothing to do with your case. Will 
you walk quietly if we loosen your legs?” cried the 
officer. 

“No, curse you all, no! You are in league to 
ruin me — me, an honest man. Let me go free! I 
say, let me go free! I have got to appear in court 
and youTl detain me at your peril!” 

The policemen smiled at his ravings, and un- 
binding his feet, raised him up. 

He would not try to walk, and when they at- 
tempted to move him, he struck and kicked furi- 
ously, raging and swearing fearfully. 

“What a demon he is! But this will tame him!” 
muttered the policeman, shaking his locust over his 
head. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. 

“We’ll want witnesses to hold this chap. Young 
woman, you’ll either have to go along, or else satisfy 
us you’ll be at court at his examination in the 
morning!” said he. 

“Both she and I will be there!” said Mr. Withers. 
“I am Luke Withers, the brother of Walter 
Withers.” 

“ What, the rich Mr. Walter Withers?” exclaimed 
the officer. “Your word is good, sir— so come along 
here, Mr. Limpsey.” 


202 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


“Never! never!” shouted Sharp, foaming with 
rage. 

The policemen, one on each side, raised him up 
and started toward the door. With a sudden motion 
he bent down his head, and the sharp teeth met 
through the hand of the policeman on his right. 

With a yell of pain, mingled with rage, the officer 
brought his club down with terrible force on the 
skull of the lawyer. 

In a second the jaws of the wretch relaxed, and 
as the officer jerked his lacerated, bleeding hand 
from his mouth, he saw a quiver run through the 
whole frame of the lawyer, indicating the spas- 
modic action of nerves sometimes preceding death. 

“By thunder, Potter, I believe you’ve killed 
him 1 ” cried the other officer. 

“ I only hope I have. Look how he has gnawed 
my hand. If I have the lockjaw I shall die too. 
Ugh! the beast.” 

Enoch Sharp did not struggle any more. Nor was 
he seen to breathe again. They carried him down 
to the library and laid him on the settee there. 
Water was dashed in his face. That did not bring 
him too. 

“I didn’t think I had struck so hard. But he was 
biting terrible, and I wanted to make him let go,” 
said the officer, now a little alarmed, seeing that 
the lawyer was really dead. 

“Do not be troubled. You have only saved the 
hangman a job,” said a stern voice, and, coming 
from an inner room, a man with a deep red scar on 
the side of his face advanced. 

Holding up a key, this man said . 

“ Open that safe and you will see his first victim 
for to-night.” 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


203 


One of the officers took the key and opened the 
safe. A cry of horror burst from every lip at the 
sight of the distorted face of Joe. 

The latter was instantly recognized by the officers. 

“A small loss in his death, but he has died by liis 
own trade,” said one of them. 

“Who are you, sir? Have I not seen you before?” 
asked Mr. Withers, looking earnestly at the man 
with the red scar. 

“I am one, sir, who has done you an injury which 
would be too great to be forgiven, were it not in my 
power partially to repair it. I have just sent for 
one who will tell you who I am, and I pray you to 
nerve your heart for a great, a joyous surprise. 
They are coming, sir — they are coming. Oh, be 
strong, sir — be strong!” 

“Who afe coming?” asked Mr. Withers, with a 
bewildered look. 

He was answered by the rustle of dresses, and 
turning toward the door by which the other had 
entered, he saw the same elderly female whom the 
reader has hitherto met in company with Captain 
Hawk. She was followed by Laura Brayton, but 
Mr. Withers saw only the face and form of the first. 

“Oh, Heaven!” he gasped. “Can the lost return. 
Annie, it is thy sainted spirit. Hast thou come to 
summon me?” 

“My husband — oh, my husband, this is more hap- 
piness than I can bear!” she cried, as she fell upon 
his breast. 

“Alive? Tears, words, her arms around me? Is 
it real? Men, is this — is it a dream?” 

“It is real, Mr. Withers!” cried Captain Hawk. 

“There is your wife, and here is your child. The 
would-be murderer of the one, and the persecutor 


204 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


of the other — Enoch Sharp — is dead. The day which 
ere long will dawn, would have witnessed their re- 
storation to the rights and property which he 
wrongfully withheld. But death has altered all our 
plans. A messenger who will not dally has gone 
already to notify Mr. Walter Withers and Mr. 
Johnson, the lawyer, that they are needed here.” 

“My wife? Yes,' it is Annie,” sobbed the old man. 
“And my child, is she my child?” he asked, point- 
ing to Laura, who stood in tearful wonder, gazing 
first at one and then at the other. 

“Your child and mine, Luke, your child and 
mine,” said the lady, raising her head from his 
breast to turn her eyes upon Laura. 

“My mother, my father? Can this be real?” 
gasped the trembling girl. 

“It is,” said Captain Hawk. “There is a long 
story to tell — a story in which I played a villain’s 
part, but it must all come out when the others 
arrive.” 

“You have nobly redeemed all the wrong you 
ever did,” cried the lady. “You have restored me 
to my child, and Heaven has brought back my hus- 
band to make my joy complete.” 

“I can’t forget the bad past, no matter what the 
present good I do,” said the captain, sadly. “But 
do not, dear lady, nor you, Mr. Withers, and Miss 
Laura, remain here in this atmosphere of death. 
Go with me to some more cheerful room in the 
house, to wait for those whom I have sent for, while 
the officers take charge of these hideous remains.” 


LAURA BRAY TON. 


206 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

REUNITED. 

The day was just dawning when a carriage drew 
up before the door of the old Withers mansion, con- 
taining Mr. Walter Withers and Lawyer Johnson, 
both of whom had been prepared to a certain degree 
for an interview with the trio who now sat with 
Captain Hawk in the back parlor of the old house. 

As soon as they had alighted the carriage was 
again sent away by Eldridge Putnam, with direc- 
tions given in an undertone. 

To describe the meeting of the brothers, their ex- 
travagant joy when both had feared that their first 
meeting would be on the far rather than the hither 
side of the grave, would be to intrude upon that 
which can better be imagined than explained. The 
wonder that for so long poor Laura Brayton had 
been so near an uncle whose power in wealth and 
influence would have raised her from persecution 
without a struggle, the surprise that for so long 
Enoch Sharp could have concealed his infamous 
plans, and that in the end Providence had, with its 
unerring hand, avenged and punished the wrongs 
and the wrong-doer, all constituted combinations 
apparently more fanciful than real, yet they were 
the scenes of real life. 

The story was this: The lawyer, maddened by 
the loss of Annie Lonsdale, on whom he had set all 
that he had of heart, had determined to work out a 


206 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


revenge all the more intense, because it was secret 
and deep. 

When, through the private administration of 
drugs, the health of the young wife and mother be- 
gan to fail, by a physician bribed by him the sea- 
voyage was counseled, that, too, at a time when 
business complications had been purposely arranged 
to keep Luke Withers at home. 

Then Captain Hawk, by heavy bribes, was en- 
gaged in the drama. His ship was to be wrecked, 
the woman and child alone saved by him, if pos- 
sible, for future aims of the arch-plotter. 

Hawk carried out the plan partially, but led away 
by his own unholy desires, pretended to his em- 
ployer that the woman had perished also, while in 
truth he imprisoned her in an islet on the Florida 
coast, there to await his return, after he had deliv- 
ered the infant girl to Enoch Sharp. 

But the lawyer, as soon as the child was in his 
power, wished to bury these terrible secrets, and to 
make sure of Hawk, caused him, as he supposed, 
to be assassinated. But the latter escaped the doom 
intended for him. 

Infatuated with the beauty of Mrs. Withers, he 
returned to her and sought in every way to gain her 
love, telling her truly that her husband had gone 
mad at her supposed death, and, leaving his prop- 
erty and business in the hands of Sharp, had fled 
the country. 

Proof not only against the solicitations of Hawk, 
but powerful in maternal love, Mrs. Withers had 
finally succeeded in conquering the evil desires of 
the captain, and had enlisted him in a plan to pun- 
ish Sharp, and to regain her daughter and the prop- 
erty of her husband. Knowing the secrets, both 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


207 


under and above ground, of the old mansion, she 
imparted them to Hawk, hence it was easy to make 
of it a “ haunted house,” and in many ways to annoy 
and startle the fiendish lawyer. 

The rest of the story has explained itself. The 
property of Mr. Withers, increased immensely in 
value, was through the papers taken from Sharp, 
easily regained without an appeal to law. 

And now, with the brothers, wife, and daughter, 
joyously reunited, comes our pleasing 

“To this young gentleman,” said Mr. Johnson, 
pointing to Eldridge Putnam, as he addressed Luke 
Withers, “we owe a large debt of gratitude, which 
there is but one way of paying. When your daugh- 
ter was friendless, treated like a menial by Sharp, 
persecuted and wronged, when he supposed her to 
be a portionless, friendless orphan, he was her 
friend and her champion, and giving her his heart 
also offered her his hand and an honorable alliance 
with one of our proudest families. She, with a pride 
well worthy of a noble nature, while loving him, 
refused to take advantage of his generous affection, 
but said she would first rise to an equality which 
would not cause his relatives to look down on her. 
Equal now in social position, what should hinder a 
union so desirable?” 

“Nothing!” said Mr. Withers. 

“Nothing!” said his happy wife. 

“Nothing. Thank Heaven, I now have heirs to 
whom I can leave that which so much troubled my 
mind!” said Mr. Walter Withers. 

And Mr. Luke Withers placed the willing hand 
of his child in that of Eldridge Putnam. 

“Say, what d’ye want with us, old fel? Here we 
are!” 


208 


LAURA BRAYTON. 


This cry came from our old and tried friend, 
Sammy Glenn, as with his mother and Annie 
Walker, he hurried into the room. 

“To witness our happiness,” said young Putnam, 
and then a full explanation had to be given to them. 

Meanwhile, with feelings of pride that he had 
taken so powerful a part in wiping out the dark 
acts of his life, Captain Hawk stood and watched 
the play of feeling on all those differing faces. 

There was another watcher, and that was Lydia 
Gardner. She looked upon it as a wondering 
maiden first witnesses the performance of some 
thrilling drama, hardly knowing that it was real, 
or that she was dreaming it. 

Not long was she allowed to be an inactive wit- 
ness. Taking her by the hand, Mr. Luke Withers 
said to all assembled . 

“Were it not for this brave young girl, who in the 
mercy of Providence saved my life, I should not 
have known this joy. Take her to your hearts, my 
wife and daughter, henceforth she must be as dear 
to you as she is to me, and our united care prove to 
her and her noble father that gratitude has a reality 
rather than a name.” 

Blushing, Lydia received the embraces of the 
ladies, and then Laura pressed her old friend and 
room-mate, Annie Walker, to her bosom, and kissed 
the rosy, happy face of Sammy Glenn’s proud 
mother. 

[the end.] 

“ADAM KENT’S CHOICE,” by Humphey Elliott, 
will be published in the next number (66) of The Select 
Series. 


THE SELECT SERIES 

OP 

POPULAR AMERICAN COPYRIGHT STORIES. 

No. 60— WON ON THE HOMESTRETCH, by Mrs. M. C. Williams 25 

No. 59— WHOSE WIFE IS SHE? by Annie Lisle 25 

No. 58 — KILDHURM’S OAK, by Julian Hawthorne 25 

No. 57— STEPPING-STONES, by Marion Harland 25 

No. 56— THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT, by Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 55— ROXY HASTINGS, by P. Hamilton Myers 25 

No. 54— THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, by C. H. Montague 25 

No. 53— THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 52— TRUE TO HERSELF, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 

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No. 36— THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 35— CECILE’S MARRIAGE by Lucy Randall Comfort 25 

No. 34 — THE LITTLE WIDOW, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 33— THE COUNTY FAIR, by Neil Burgess 25 

No. 32— LADY RYHOPE’S LOVER, by Emma G. Jones 25 

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No. 29 — THE HEIRESS OF EGREMONT, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis 25 

No. 28— A HEART’S IDOL, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 27— WINIFRED, by Mary Kyle Dallas 25 

No. 26— FONTELROY, by Francis A. Durivage 25 

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No. 24— THAT DOWDY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 23— DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD 25 

No. 22— A HEART’S BITTERNESS, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 21 — THE LOST BRIDE, by Clara Augusta 25 

No. 20 — INGOMAR, by Nathan D. Urner 25 

No. 19— A LATE REPENTANCE, by Mrs. Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 18 — ROSAMOND, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

No. 17— THE HOUSE OF SECRETS, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis 25 

No. 16— SYBIL’S INFLUENCE, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 15— THE VIRGINIA HEIRESS, by Mrs. May Agnes Fleming 25 

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STREET & SMITH, 

25 to 31 Rose Streets i^ew Yqj;]&, 


P. O. Box 2734. 


THE COUNTY FAIR. 


By NEIL BURGESS. 

Written from the celebrated play now 
running its second continuous season in 
New York, and booked to run a jhird sea- 
son in the same theater. 

The scenes are among the New Hamp- 
shire hills, and picture the bright side of 
country life. The story is full of amusing 
events and happy incidents, something 
after the style of our “Old Homestead,” 
which is having such an enormous sale. 

“THE COUNTY FAIR” will be one 
of the great hits of the season, and should 
t\\ you fail to secure a copy you will miss a 
'{}/ literary treat. It is a spirited romance of 
town and country, and a faithful repro- 
duction of the drama, with the same unique 
characters, the same graphic scenes, but 
with the narrative more artistically rounded, and completed than was 
possible in the brief limits of a dramatic representation. This touch- 
ing story effectively demonstrates that it is possible to produce a novel 
which is at once wholesome and interesting in every part, without the 
introduction of an impure thought or suggestion. Read the following 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS: 



Mr. Neil Burgess has rewritten his play, “The County Fair,” in story form. It 
rounds out a narrative which is comparatively but sketched in the play. It only needs 
the first sentence to set going the memory and imagination of those who have seen the 
latter and whet the appetite for the rest of this lively conception of a live dramatist.— 
Brooklyn Daily Eagle. 

As “The County Fair” threatens to remain in New York for a long time the general 
public out of town may be glad to learn that the playwright has put the piece into print 
in the form of a story. A tale based upon a play may sometimes lack certain literary 
qualities, but it never is the sort of thing over which any one can fall asleep. For- 
tunately, “The County Fair” on the stage and in print is by the same author, so there 
can be no reason for fearing that the book misses any of the points of the drama which 
has been so successful,— A’. F. Herald. 


The idea of turning successful plays into novels seems to be getting popular. The 
latest book of this description is a story reproducing the action and incidents of Neil 
Burgess’ play, “The County Fair.” The tale, which is a romance based on scenes of 
home life and domestic joys and sorrows, follows closely the lines of the drama in 
story and plot .— Chicago Dauy News. 

Mr. Burgess’ amusing play, “The County Fair.” has been received with such favor 
that he has worked it over and expanded it into a novel of more than 200 pages. It will 
be enjoyed even by those who have never heard the play and still more by those who 
ha ve.— Cincinnati Times- Star. 

This touching story effectively demonstrates that it is possible to produce a novel 
which is at once wholesome and interesting in every part, without the introduction of 
an impure thought or suggestion .— A Ibany Press. 

Street & Smith have issued “The County Fair.” This is a faithful reproduction of 
the drama of that name and is an affecting and vivid story of domestic life, joy and 
sorrow, and rural scenes .— San Francisco Call. 

This romance is written from the play of this name and is full of touching incidents. 
-- Evansville Journal. 

It is founded on the popular play of the same name, in which Neil Burgess, who is 
also the author of the story, has achieved the dramatic success of the season —Fall 
River Herald. 


Tile County Fair is No. 33 of “The Select Series,” for 
sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent, on receipt of price, 25 cents, to any 
address, postpaid, by STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 25-31 Rose st., New York, 


DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD. 


STREET & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES No. 28. 


JPrice, 25 Cento. 


Some Opinions of the Press. 

•* As the probabilities are remote of the play * The Old Homestead ’ being 
seen anywhere but In large cities It is only fair that the story of the piece should 
be printed. Like most stories written from plays it contains a great deal which 
Is not said or done on the boards, yet it is no more verbose than such a story 
should be, and it gives some good pictures of the scenes and people who for a 
year or more have been delighting thousands nightly. Uncle Josh, Aunt Tildy, 
Old Cy Prime, Reuben, the mythical Bill Jones, the sheriff and all the other char- 
acters are here, beside some new ones. It is to be booed that the book will make 
a large sale, not only on its merits, but that other play owners may feel encour- 
aged to let their works be read by the many thousands who cannot hope to see 
them on the stage.”— A. Y. Herald, June 2d. 

“Denman Thompson’s ‘The Old Homestead’ is a story'of clouds and sunshine ' 
alternating over a venerated home; of a grand old man, honest and blunt, who 
loves his honor as he loves his life, yet suffers the agony of the condemned in 
learning of the deplorable conduct of a wayward son; a story of country life, love 
and jealousy, without an impure thought, and with the healthy flavor of the 
fields in every chapter. It is founded on Denman Thompson s drama of ‘The 
Old Homestead.’ ” — N. Y. Press, May 26th. 

“ Messrs. Street & Smith, publishers of the New YorTc Weekly, have brought 
out in book-form the story of 4 The Old Homestead,’ the play which, as produced 
by Mr. Denman Thompson, has met wfth such wondrous success. It will proba- 
bly have a great sale, thus justifying the foresight of the publishers in giving the 
drama this permanent Action form.”— A. Y. Morning Journal, June 2d. 

“ The popularity or Denman Thompson’s play of • The Old Homestead’ has 
encouraged Street & Smith, evidently with his permission, to publish a good-sized 
novel with the same title, set in the same scenes and including the same charac- 
ters and more too. The book is a fair match for the play in the simple good taste 
and real ability with which it is written. The publishers are Street & Smith, and 
they have gotten the volume up in cheap popular form.”— N. Y. Graphic, May 29. 

“Denman Thompson’s play, ‘The Old Homestead,’ is familiar, at least by rep 
utatlon, to every play-goer in the country. Its truth to nature and its simple 
pathos have been admirably preserved in this story, which is founded upon it 
and follows its Incidents closely. The requirements of the stag.- make the action 
a little hurried at times, but the scenes described are brought before the mind’s 
eye with remarkable vividness, and the portrayal of life in the little New Eng- 
land town is almost perfect. Those who have never seen the play can get an 
excellent idea of what it is like from the book. Both are free from sentimentality 
%ud sensation, and are remarkably healthy in lone.”— Albany Express. 

“Denman Thompson’s ‘Old Homestead’ has been put into story-form ana \s is- 
sued by Street & Smith. The story will somewhat explain to those who have not 
seen It the great popularity of the play ."—Brooklyn Times, June 8th. 

“The fame of Denman Thompson’s play, ‘Old Homestead,’ is world-wide. 
Tens of thousands have enjoyed it, and frequently recall the pure, lively pleasure 
they took in its representation. This is the story told in narrative form as well 
?s it was told on the stage, and will be a treat to all, whether they ha "9 seen the 
play or not.”— National Tribune, Washington, D. C. 

“Here we have the shaded lanes, the dusty roads, the hilly pastures, the 
peaked roofs, the school-house, and the familiar faces of dear old Swanzey, and 
the story which, dramatized, has packed the largest theater in New York, and 
has been a success everywhere because of Its true and sympathetic touches of 
nature. All the incidents which have held audiences spell- bound are here re- 
corded— the accusation of robbery directed against the Innocent boy, his shame, 
and leaving home ; the dear old Aunt Tilda, who has been courted for thirty 
years bv the mendacious Cy Prime, who has never had the courage to propose; 
the fall of the country boy into the temptations of city life, and his recovery by 
the good old man who braves the metropolis to find him. The story embodies au 
that the play tells, and all that It suggests as welL”— Kansas Gttti Journal 
lUymh, 


BERTHA M. CLAY’S 

LATEST 

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1 1ST 

ThE Select Series. 

Price, 2S Cents Eacii. 


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No. 22.— A HEART’S BITTERNESS. 

No. 28.— A HEART’S IDOL. 

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No. 39.-MARJORIE DEANE. 

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No. 12— HELD FOR RANSOM, by Lieut. Murray. 

No. 11 THE IRISH MONTE CRISTO’S SEARCH, by Alex. 
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No. 10— LA TOSCA, from the celebrated play, by Victorien 
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No. 9—THE MAN IN BLUE, by Mary A. Denison. 

No. 8— BEN HAMED, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 

No. 7-CONFESSIONS OF LINSKA. 

No. 6— THE MASKED LADY, by Lieutenant Murray. 

No. 5— THEODORA, from the celebrated play, by Victorien 
Sardou. 

No. 4— THE LOCKSMITH OF LYONS, by Prof. Wm. H. Peck. 
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ifo. 86— THE GREAT TRAVERS CASE, by I)r. Mark Merrick. 
No. 35— MUERTALMA ; OR, THE POISONED PIN, by Mar- 
maduke Dey. 

No. 31— DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER, by R. M. Taylor. 

No. 33— OLD SPECIE, by Alexander Robertson, M. D. 

No. 32-ADVENTURES AND EXPLOITS OF THE YOUNGER 
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No. 31— A CHASE ROUND THE WORLD, by Mariposa Weir. 
No. 30 GOLD-DUST DARRELL, by Burke Brentford. 

No. 29— THE POKER KING, by Marline Manly. 

No. 28-BOB YOUNGER’S FATE, by Edwin S. Deane. 

No. 27— THE REVENUE DETECTIVE, by Police Captain James. 
No. 26— UNDER HIS THUMB by Donald J. McKenzie. 

No. 25- THE NAVAL DETECTIVE’S CHASE, by Ned Buntline. 
No. 24— THE PRAIRIE DETECTIVE, by Leander P. Rich- 
ardson. 

No. 23— A MYSTERIOUS CASE, by K. F. Hill. 

No. 22— THE SOCIETY DETECTIVE, by Oscar Maitland. 

No. 21— THE AMERICAN MARQUIS, by Nick Carter. 

No. 20— THE MYSTERY OF A MADSTONE, by tf. F. Hill. 

No. 19— THE SW ORDSMAN OF W ARSAW, by Tony Pastor. 
No. 18— A WALL STREET HAUL, by Nick Carter. 

No. 17 -THE OLD DETECTIVE’S PUPIL, by Nick Carter. 

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No. 4- THE TWIN DETECTIVES, by K. F. HiU. 

No. 3- VAN, THE GOVERNMENT DETECTIVE, by “Old 
Sleuth.” 

No. 2— BRUCE ANGELO, by “Old Sleuth.” 

No. 1-BRANT ADAMS, by “Old Sleuth.” 

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No. 53 — COONSKIN, THE SCOUT, by Duke Cuyler. 

No. 52— RAZZLE-DAZZLE DICK, by Donald J. McKenzie. 

No. 51— JENNIE, THE TELEGRAPH OPERATOR, by R. M. Taylor. 

No. 50— FRANK AND JESSE JAMES IN MEXICO, by W. B. Lawson. 

No. 49— THE YOUNGER BROTHER’S YOIV, by Jack Sharp. 

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No. 25— DARROW, THE FLOATING DETECTIVE, by Ned Buntline. 

No. 24 — THE SHANGHAIER OF GREENWICH STREET, by Henry Deering. 

No. 23— PHENOMENAL PAUL, THE WIZARD PITCHER OF THE LEAGUE, bj 
John Warden. 

No. 22-OLD MAN HOWE, by Wm. O. Stoddard. 

No. 21— CATTLE KATE, by Lieutenant Carlton. 

No. 20— GUISEPPE, THE WEASEL, by Eugene T. Sawyer. 

No. 19— LOUISVILLE LUKE, THE JOCKEY WONDER, by Jack Howard, 

No. 18 — THE OYSTER PIRATES, by Eugene T. Sawyer. 

No. 17— SILVER MASK, by Delta Calaveras. 

No. 16 — THE JOHNSTOWN HERO, by Marline Manly. 

No. 15— THE GREAT CRONIN MYSTERY, by Mark Merrick, Esq. 

No. 14-DIAMOND DICK IN ARIZONA, by Delta Calaveras. 

No. 13— HARRY LOVELL, THE GENTLEMAN RIDER, by Sherwood Stanley. 
No. 12 — THE MINER DETECTIVE, by Ned Buntliue. 

No. 11— THE OKLAHOMA DETECTIVE, by Old Broadbrim. 

No. 10— THE GOLD-HUNTER DETECTIVE, by Marline Manly. 

No. 9— THE IRISH JUDAS; or, The Great Conspiracy Against Parnell, by 
Clarence Clancool. 

No. 8-BILL TREDEGAR, A Tale of the Moonshiners, by Ned Buntlinec 
No. 7— THE PINERY DEN DETECTIVE, by Mark Merrick, Esq, 

No. 6— CAPTAIN KATE, by Leander P. Richardson. 

No. 5— THE WHITE CAP DETECTIVE, by Marline Manly. 

No. 4— JESSE, THE OUTLAW, A Story of the James Boys, by Captain Jake 
Shackleford. 

No. 3-SEVEN PICKED MEN, by .Tudson R. Taylor 

No. 2— THE KEWANEE BANK ROBBERY, by J. R. Musick. 

No. 1— THE WHITE CAPS, by Marline Manly 


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No. 30-McGINTY’S DOUBLE, by Cornelius Shea. 

No. 29— SMART ALECK ’WAY DOWN EAST, by Frank. 

No. 28— McGINTY’S CHRISTENING, by Cornelius Shea. 

No. 27— McGINTY’S BOARDING-HOUSE, by Cornelius Shea* 

No. 26— HIS ROYAL NIBS, by John F. Cowan. 

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No. 21— McGINTY’S GAMBOLS, by Cornelius Shea. 

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No. 14-SMART ALECK’S SUCCESS, by Frank. 

No. 13— THE SEARCH FOR CAPTAIN KIDD, by Col Juan Lewis. 

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No. 11— BOSS OF LONG HORN CAMP; or, A Fortune for a Ransom, by A. C. 
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No. 9-YOUNG SANTEE, THE BOOTBLACK PRINCE ; or, The Boy Wizard oi 
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No. 7— THE CRIMSON TRAIL ; or, On Custer’s Last War-Path, by Buffalo Bill. 

No. 6— THE FLOATING ACADE3IY ; or, The Terrible Secrets of Doctor Switchem’s 
School-Ship, by Dash Dale. 

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No. 4— THE GAYEST BOY IN NEW YORK; or, Adventures by Gaslight, by 
Dash Kingston. 

No. 3— BOUNCER BROWN ; or, He Was Bound to Find His Father, by Com- 
modore Ah-Loolc. 

No. 2— UNDER THE GULF ; or, The Strange Voyage of the Torpedo Boat, by 

Harry St. George. 

No. 1— SMART ALECK ; or, A Crank’s Legacy, by Frank. 


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No. 64— YOUNG MRS. CHARNLEIGH, by T. W. Hanshew 25 

No. 63— BORN TO BETRAY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 62— A STRANGE PILGRIMAGE, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth.... 25 

No. 61 — THE ILLEGAL MARRIAGE, by Hon. Evelyn Ashby 25 

No. 60— WON ON THE HOMESTRETCH, by Mrs. M. C. Williams 25 

No. 59— WHOSE WIFE IS SHE? by Annie Lisle 25 

No. 58 — KILDHURM'S OAK, by Julian Hawthorne 25 

No. 57— STEPPING-STONES, by Marion Harland 25 

No. 56— THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT, by Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 55— ROXY HASTINGS, by P. Hamilton Myers 25 

No. 54— THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, by C. H. Montague 25 

No. 53— THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 52— TRUE TO HERSELF, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 

No. 51— A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN’S SIN, by Hero Strong 25 

No. 50 — MARRIED IN MASK, by Mansfield Tracy Walworth 25 

No. 49— GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 48— THE MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE, by A. M. Domglas 25 

No. 47 — SADIA THE ROSEBUD, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 46— A MOMENT OF MADNESS, by Charles J. Bellamy 25 

No. 45— WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, by Charlotte M. Brame 25 

No. 44— A TRUE ARISTOCRAT, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 43 — TRIXY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 42— A DEBT OF VENGEANCE, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 25 

No. 41— BEAUTIFUL RIENZI, by Annie Ashmore 25 

No. 40 — AT A GIRL’S MERCY, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 39 — MARJORIE DEANE, by Bertha M. Clay : 25 

No. 38 — BEAUTIFUL, BUT POOR, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 37— IN LOVE’S CRUCIBLE, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 36— THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 35 — CECILE’S MARRIAGE by Lucy Randall Comfort 25 

No. 34 — THE LITTLE WIDOW, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 33 — THE COUNTY FAIR, by Neil Burgess 25 

No. 32— LADY RYHOPE’S LOVER, by Emma G. Jones 25 

No. 31 — MARRIED FOR GOLD, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 25 

No. 30— PRETTIEST OF ALL, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 29— THE HEIRESS 0J.45GREM0NT, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis 25 

No. 28— A HEART’S IDOL, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 27— WINIFRED, by Mary Kyle Dallas 25 

No. 26— FONTELROY, by Francis A. Durivage 25 

No. 25— THE KING’S TALISMAN, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 25 

No. 24 — THAT DOWDY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 23— DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD 25 

No. 22— A HEART’S BITTERNESS, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 21 — THE LOST BRIDE, by Clara Augusta 25 

No. 20 — INGOMAR, by Nathan D. Urner 25 

No. 19 — A LATE REPENTANCE, by Mrs. Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 18— ROSAMOND, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

No. 17— THE HOUSE OF SECRETS, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis 25 

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FIGHTING FOR IT. 

Here is a good-natured scramble lor a cake of Pears’ Soap, which only 
illustrates how necessary it becomes to all people who have once tried it 
ami diseovered its merits. Some who ask for it have to flight lor it in a 
more serious way, anti that tot* in drug stores where all sorts of vile apd 
inferior soaps are urged upon them as substitutes. But they can always 
get the genuine Pears' Soap.it they will be as persistent as are these urchins. 














































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